


In love with Sherlock Holmes

by MartinChristopher



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Crossover Pairings, Dating, Declarations Of Love, Emmy Award, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Freelock, Friendship, Jude Law as John Watson, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Martin and Sherlock and a love story, Romance, Setlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock is a real person, Teasing John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinChristopher/pseuds/MartinChristopher
Summary: A love story between Sherlock and Martin.Sherlock is a real person, and not just a fictional character of Arthur Conan Doyle.And so John Watson, just sold the TV-rights of some cases to BBC.And after a few years - in 2016, Sherlock finally meet the second John Watson - Martin Freeman.But why should he need a second John, a John, who just pretend to be John Watson.He could live without this Martin Freeman.How wrong he was.





	1. Based on a true story

**Sherlock Holmes:** _Benedict Cumberbatch_  
**Dr. John Watson:** _Jude Law_

 **BBC Sherlock:** _Robert Downey Jr._  
**BBC Watson:** _Martin Freeman_

\--------------------------------------------------

 

The world had never heard of a man called Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch, and the world had never heard of a man called David Jude Heyworth Law, and on top of that, the world had never heard of an author called Arthur Conan Doyle.

But the world had heard of a man called William Sherlock Scott Holmes: the worlds only consulting detective, a self-proclaimed high function sociopath, cold hearted, rude and the genius of the century – if you ask him.  
He was a tall and slender, forty years old man, with a dark and deep voice and a few remarkable identifications; his hair, dark and curly; his skin pale; his eyes in any colour, and when you look into them, you never know, which colour they would have the next time – a range between a piercing silver till a warm green, and sometimes you were able to see the green, the blue and a light touch of gold in his eyes; his remarkable sharp cheekbones, and his remarkable formed lips.  
And then there were his clothes; mostly a shirt, which was too tight, suit jacket, an elegant dark trouser, dark, elegant shoes; sometimes he just wore pajama pants, a T-shirt, his dressing gown, and bare feet; and he also didn’t mind walking outdoors with just a sheet. And on top of that, he mostly wore a Belstaff coat and a blue scarf.  
He lived in London, in a flat at 221B Baker Street, with his flatmate – another man, the world had heard quite a lot of in the last few years.

Dr. John Hamish Watson, the blogger, assistant, doctor, flatmate and best friend of the worlds only consulting detective. If you ask Sherlock, he would tell you, that this was his only friend he ever had had, he has at the moment, and he would have in his whole life.  
He was an ex-army soldier, had served in Afghanistan, and after he got shot, he had come back to London, met the freak (how Sherlock was called by a lot of people), and became his loyal everything.  
John Watson was athletic, two years older than Sherlock, and almost as tall as Sherlock. He had dark blonde hair, green eyes and wore always his ridiculous looking mustache. And he also wore the jumpers and shirts, Sherlock didn’t like.  
He always got grumpy with Sherlock, but he would never get the absurd idea to leave Sherlock, or to stay at home, while he was chasing criminals. He loved adventures, and he loved his best friend, even so he was a mad and rude genius. Even after Sherlock’s “dead” he had stayed his friend, even so, it was a hard time, because of his freaky ex-wife Mary.

The world knew Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick John Watson so well, because of two things.  
The first thing was, that John had written a few cases in his blog, and a while after he had begun, the press had noticed them.  
Sherlock wasn’t that satisfied about it. He didn’t really liked pictures of himself, and he didn’t like to give interviews or whatever – so John did this kind of stuff. It was finally his fault, that the press stalked them.

The second thing was – mostly the same. It was a consequence of John’s blog and the press. The TV-world had noticed them eight years ago. It had been two guys, who had asked to buy the TV-rights, eight years ago. And John had been willing to sell the cases – and so, seven years ago, BBC had started to shoot a series called Sherlock.  
Sherlock hadn’t been and wasn’t really satisfied about it. He had agreed, because John and all the others, like Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson and Molly, and even his own annoying brother Mycroft, had annoyed and bothered him, until he had agreed. But until now, he had neither been on the set, nor on an award presentation, nor at any late night show. And until now, he had refused unwaveringly to watch any of these nine episodes and the special. He didn’t want to see a silly and dumb man, who pretend to be him.

John had been mad about it, had bothered him with all the actors names and how they look like, and what else they had done, and how good and great the show would be – to be honest, he hadn’t listened – not once – not properly.  
He could just remember two persons.  
Some Junior guy (what a ridiculous name), who played him – and seemed to dress up himself otherwise in a silly and ridiculous looking red and gold superhero costume.  
And the other one, who played John, and otherwise he seemed to have played a hairy and small non-existing creature, in a non-existing world, with wizards and dwarfs – absolutely stupid. His name was Melvin or something like that. And John said, that his middle name would be John as well.

John had been on all these pre-production appointments.  
They had an agreement, that the victim’s and criminal’s names get changed, as well, that the stories, aren’t exactly telling the true happenings, and the episode names may not be the original case names. And they had agreed, that the cases John sold to write them into a script, are not posted in his blog - at least, this was an agreement for the new ones. All the other nine episodes had been based on John’s blog cases.

John was really happy with it, to be honest, he was totally excited.  
First point, but not the most important one – they got money from it; second point - the scripts had been absolutely awesome, as well as the final episodes, the cast and the acting. It was a bit strange, to be such a fan of his own life, of his own character. He was really happy with Martin, playing him, and he loved it, how Martin played his personality, and his life with Sherlock.  
He knew Martin; he had been so often at the set, and at the rehearsals and read-throughs, that he knew him quite well.  
And he was quite sure, that Sherlock would like this really cheeky, smart and funny man; that he would like, the slightly rude and grumpy nature, even so Martin was a true gentleman – and he was a really clever guy as well.  
But Sherlock didn’t want to hear that. 

And then there was Robert, playing his Sherlock. Even so he didn’t look like Sherlock, and played a 11 year old younger man - it just seemed to be Sherlock. He played the genius and his mad and rude and arrogant and sulking and freaky personality so well, that John was flashed every time he watched it. He was so totally not Sherlock, he was absolutely the opposite of Sherlock. Even Martin was probably more Sherlock than Robert, with his knowledge, and grumpy and rude comments – even so it was very charming and funny and mostly fooling around.

Even Mycroft was very amused by the BBC Sherlock and the BBC John, and himself, played by Mark Gatiss, who looked very similar – he was just very amused by the whole show. And he was especially very amused by the gay subtext. In fact, it was Mycroft, who was the most impatient person, when it comes to the series.  
John was sure, at the moment, Mycroft was rather stalking the setlock pictures and the set itself, than to work. Probably, he was so busy with watching all these pictures, or to drive to the set, that he hasn’t worked since Setlock had started in April.  
At least, he had been with him at the read-through this year.

The only person who wasn’t amused; the only person, who was in a way sulking about it, and refused to watch it and get to know the set and the actors was: Sherlock.  
Sherlock always sulked and got rude, as soon as someone mentioned BBC Sherlock, what happened quite often, because also Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade and Sally and Molly were totally excited. And he was sulking and rude, even more, when Anderson mentioned BBC Sherlock.  
He called them all stupid, dumb and silly – all the episodes, all the actors, all the people behind the scenes – even so he didn’t know one of them.  
As curious as he always was with new things, as mad and ignoring he was with this series. 

Sherlock couldn’t understand all the excitement about this series – they all knew what had happened in real life – so why get excited while seeing it, as if one hadn’t had experienced it beforehand.  
He really didn’t want to watch his cases on television. No one needed to remember him, which cases he had had, his mind was working very well, and he could remember every case in detail.  
And on top of that, he didn’t want to watch a guy, who pretend to be him.  
He had enough social contacts, with John, and Lestrade and his freaky companions, with Mrs. Hudson, and Mycroft and his annoying minions, and with Molly, and the victims and clients and corpses and his skull – he didn’t need more social contacts.  
He just didn’t want to know more stupid and silly persons in his life. And he just didn’t want to drive around to waste his time on a set with these silly and stupid persons.  
Experiments were waiting, cases were waiting, criminals and murderer and corpses were waiting; he needed to annoy his brother, he needed to annoy and bother and tease John; he needed to visit his parents, he needed to help Mrs. Hudson, he needed to destroy Mollys flirting efforts; he needed to talk with his skull, he needed to scare of John’s silly dates, and he needed to sulk on his leather sofa.  
Even if he wanted to go, everybody should notice, that he hasn’t the time for it.

He didn’t need a Junior in his life, and especially, he didn’t need a second John, called Melvin in his life.

How very wrong he was.


	2. Meeting the fake ones

_**\- Friday, May/27 – 2016, late morning, Wales, on location -** _

Wales.  
He really had travelled to Wales.  
He really had travelled to the film set of this series, which was called after him.   
He couldn’t believe it.  
And he would think about how to murder John when he was back tonight.   
That annoying doctor had just booked him a ticket for the train – John had just called these silly and dump people, and told them, that he would come to the film set for the first time, on Friday – today.

 

At the end of the last week, some of these guys had called them, to be precise, the guy had called John, and had asked if Sherlock could come over next week, they would have a few questions, and it was always hard to do that just with John or Mycroft, especially when it comes to deductions or things Sherlock would do, or would maybe not do.   
They really wanted to make it right, without any silly and preventable mistakes. All the years they had done it without Sherlock, but they really wanted to get to know him personally, and they really wanted to hear some of his deductions, and they needed his help.   
And so, Mark had called John, and had pleaded to convince Sherlock to come over.  
John hadn’t been quite sure, if he was able to manage it – but who else would be able to manage it, if it wasn’t John.

But of course, he had tried his luck; there had been a few possibilities:  
First one: Sherlock would sulk and ignore him, until he never mentioned BBC Sherlock.  
Second one: Sherlock would be rude.  
Third one: Sherlock would get upset.  
Fourth one: Sherlock would agree.

All possibilities happened in a way, despite the totally ignoring.  
John had annoyed and bothered him a whole week. He had talked about it every day; every day he had asked Sherlock if he would go to the Sherlock set. He had asked him nicely and friendly, he had asked him a bit more grumpy, he had asked him really upset. He had mentioned it a whole week, the whole day – every few minutes.   
And Sherlock had sulked, had ignored him, hadn’t talked with him the whole last weekend. He had being rude, and he had gotten really upset.   
And on top of that, he had sulked, because there hadn’t been a case in the last few days.   
To be honest John had been a bit afraid, that Sherlock would maybe set up something not good on his own, to have something to do.  
But then, yesterday, it had been happened.   
John had asked him again, right after Sherlock had walked out of his bedroom, with nothing than his bed sheets. And probably Sherlock hadn’t listened carefully – he had just said yes. And a second later, John had called Mark, and booked Sherlock a ticket; who was really surprised and upset, when John had handed him a document, he could use as his ticket.  
It had been true – he hadn’t listened carefully on Thursday morning - he had been really sleepy.  
But anyway, it was all John's fault.  
John with his blog, and his exciting personality, who had sold the cases.   
John, who had annoyed and bothered him a whole week, until he had heard a yes from him – while he had been in a very sleepy state.  
And then John had gotten upset as well, and told him, that he would at least have something to do, if he would go to Wales.

Sherlock didn’t understand why John thought, that sulking on a sofa wouldn’t be something to do. 

 

At least, forty minutes ago, someone had fetched him up from the station.  
The car parked, and the man turned around.  
“We can’t drive any further, Mr. Holmes. I couldn’t turn around with the car. You have to walk the last few meters. It’s just around the corner.” The man smiled friendly. “Have a nice day. I will bring you to the station in the evening.”  
Sherlock looked at him, he took his blue scarf and nodded.  
“Fine.” He looked out of the window and opened the door. He got out, but stretched his head back into the car. John would get mad with him, when he learned, that he hadn’t behaved himself. “Thank you for the ride.” He said.   
The man turned his head around; he hadn’t expected a Thank you from Sherlock. He smiled.  
“My pleasure.” He nodded.  
Sherlock nodded, and closed the door.

He looked around again.   
It wasn’t much going on. The man had said, that they had fenced off the set spaciously, because of maybe big spoilers. So he couldn’t see any fan, but he could hear voices, a lot of voices.  
He walked a few meters, around a corner and came to a halt.  
He could see a lot of trailers, a lot of people, who were running or walking around.   
He took a deep breath, he didn’t like that amount of people, and the only person, who was able to make him feel a bit comfortable with it, was in London, and working at St. Barts – playing doctor. The stupid job at St. Barts.

Now he regretted, that he hadn’t listened to John yesterday. He had shown him pictures of the actors and people, who were working here, but he hadn’t listened and he hadn’t looked at the pictures.  
Now, he needed to search for that guy, who had called last week.  
He sighed; he should just turn around. But he couldn’t do that, he had promised to stay the day here, he had promised it John, and he liked John, and he didn’t want to upset John that much, so he would grit his teeth.

A man walked towards him.  
A man with a dark, stripped suit, a white shirt and a red tie.  
He looked almost like Mycroft, even his face.  
But the man smiled a truthful and happy smile, and he walked different – comfortable and excited.  
And he waved.  
And he joked, when he stopped in front of him.  
“Brother mine! Good to see after eight long years!” The man grinned boyish, and reached out his hand. “Mark Gatiss. Welcome on the Sherlock set, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock blinked a few times. He wasn’t familiar with such open hearted welcomes, and nice jokes.  
“I think Sherlock is enough.” Sherlock said, and shook hands with Mark.  
“Then, Mark should be enough as well.” Mark smiled. “I think, it’s quite obvious, that I’m the one who plays your brother. And well, I’m one of the writers as well. John and I have phoned last week.” He shook Sherlock’s hand, and broke the contact after the right amount of hand shaking. “Glad to have you here. I think, it wasn’t your own wish.” Mark grinned.  
“Yes, it’s absolutely obvious. You look very similar.” Sherlock said. But you seem to be much nicer than the real one, Sherlock added in his head. “And, it’s true, John annoyed me until I agreed half asleep.” He said a with an annoyed voice.  
Mark laughed.  
“Such a cheeky devil. But anyway, now you’re here, and that’s great. We’re all really excited to get to know you. And it’s great that you will help us today, with a few things. It’s really kind. But, well, come on, we go to our trailer. Are you hungry or thirsty, there’s a lot of food, if you need something for breakfast or lunch now.” Mark babbled.  
Sherlock blinked again a few times. He was a bit overwhelmed and he was overchallenged, by Marks welcome, by Mark’s truthful excitement and the nice offering.  
“Um. No, no, I don’t need something now. It’s fine.”  
Mark nodded and smiled.

And Mark just took him, and walked with him to one of the trailers.  
They went in.  
“Well, it’s just me at the moment; Sue and Steven and all the others are on the actual set at the moment.” Mark said. “I need to go there in a few minutes as well, you can come with me. And later we can talk about the questions we have.” He smiled and took his sandwich. “You can stroll around here, or just watch the shoot, what you would like to do. And I think, Robert, who’s playing you would love to get to know you. Oh, and Martin, asked if you would pay him a visit. He has a two hour break in a few minutes. He could show you the set as well.”  
Sherlock watched Mark, and bowed his head.  
“Who’s Martin?”  
“The man, who plays your doctor. he plays John.” Mark smiled, and bit into his sandwich.  
“Oh, really? I thought his name would be Melvin or something like that.”

Mark chewed his sandwich, and almost choked, while he was laughing.  
He swallowed the piece of sandwich properly.  
“No, Sherlock. It’s Martin.”  
“Well, it’s at least a better sounding name.” Sherlock said dryly.  
Mark grinned.  
“Absolutely.” Mark nodded.   
Shelock smiled a bit. Maybe it wouldn’t be that horrible, like he had expected it to be since yesterday.  
“Where can I find him?”  
“Probably in his trailer. It’s the fourth and last one in that row.” Mark smiled, while eating his sandwich.  
“Okay, and when we will meet for your questions?” Sherlock asked.  
Mark looked at the clock in his trailer.  
“Um, it’s almost 11 o’clock, I would say at 2 o’clock, or half past three.” Mark smiled. “Are you coming with me now? Or do you want to wait for Martin?”  
Sherlock looked at him, and he already knew a lot of things from Mark, even though, Mark hadn’t told him any of these things.  
“Okay. Um, yes, I will come with you to have a look. And then I will search Martin.” Sherlock said.

Mark nodded with a smile, and he was sure, that Sherlock has already deduced a lot of things, that would probably make him freak out in amazement, if he would tell him all these deduced things.  
He went out of the trailer with Sherlock again, and walked with him to the location where they were filming at the moment.

Mark introduced him to a lot of people. A lot of people from behind the scenes, and a few actors, who were strolling around.   
One of them was Amanda, who looked much better, and much nicer than the real Mary had looked like. He was really happy, John wasn’t with her anymore. Just an awful woman. But this Amanda seemed to be nice – he probably wouldn’t even scare her off, if John would date her. Maybe he already was, sometimes John was really good at hiding secrets.

Then he met himself.   
Which was quite scary in a way. And he wasn’t easy to scare.  
But this Robert Downey Jr. was wearing exactly the same clothes at the moment.  
A white shirt, a dark suit jacket, a dark trouser, dark shoes – and he was wearing the same Belstaff coat, and even the same blue scarf.  
But he looked different.   
His hair was dark as his own, and not really short, but also not curly – but at least a bit wildly. He has dark brown eyes, and at the moment he looked really sick, with a stubble on his cheeks, and bags under his eyes.   
And he was smaller.  
It was creepy that such a nice and funny man was playing him. And he didn’t seem to be dumb and silly.   
He had welcomed him very excited, and had involved him into a small talk, faster than Sherlock could get into his sulking mode at 221B Baker Street – which was really fast.

If Sherlock was honest, he hadn’t expected such nice people.   
Even the man, who played Anderson was really nice, and Sherlock was glad, that he wasn’t as silly and stupid and annoying as Anderson himself.   
And not to mention Gavin. The silver haired man, who played him, was also very nice and friendly to him.   
And Sherlock had already deduced, that they all were truthfully happy and excited to get to know him – a thing he hadn’t expected.  
Normally people eye him like he would be a strange animal from the zoo. And normally people are really upset with him, and tell him to piss off.  
But all these people here, talked with him very nicely, and seemed to be really interested in him, and even his freaky and slightly rude behavior didn’t seem to bother them or to scar them off.

But for now, he would leave them, to pay this Martin guy a visit.


	3. The second Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is meeting Martin Freeman for the first time in his life.

_**\- Friday, May/27 – 2016, Wales, on location -** _

Sherlock stood in front of Martin Freeman’s trailer.   
It was locked.  
Not that Sherlock wasn’t able to break in, but probably Martin and the rest of the people, which were strolling around here, wouldn’t like that at all – as well as John, if he would get a call, that Sherlock broke into Martin Freeman’s trailer.  
So, he just waited for Martin, who should have a longer break – at least, that had Mark, the guy who looked like his own brother, told him. 

He hated waiting, and he hoped that it was worth it.  
He drummed with his left foot onto the ground, and texted John a few messages – of course he didn’t answer – just because of his silly job at the clinic.  
He put the phone back into his coat pocket, and raised his head again.

Some guy walked towards him.  
A guy with almost grey hair, the rest was dark blonde, a bit brown – and it was styled into a fluffy swoosh. Across his shaved face flickered a huge smile. He was much smaller, wore brown shoes, jeans, an oatmeal jumper, and a black jacket.  
Obviously, this was Martin Freeman.

The man stopped, and smiled to Sherlock, and before he could say anything, Sherlock just stated his name.  
“You’re Martin Freeman.”  
Martin smiled and bowed his head. He was holding a plate with food on it – with a lot of food on it. And even in his jacket pocket stuck a banana.  
“Oh, have you googled me, Mr. Holmes.” Martin grinned.  
“Sherlock’s enough.” Sherlock said. And he shook his head. “No, I haven’t. It’s absolutely obvious. I’m standing in front of a trailer, with the name Martin Freeman on it. And you walked towards me, so it is your trailer, and so you’re Martin Freeman. And that guy, who looked in a creepy way like my brother, told me, that a guy named Martin Freeman plays John, and you’re wearing some of theses ugly jumpers. So, it’s quite obvious that you’re Martin Freeman.” Sherlock stated.

Martin blinked a few times, and then he needed to laugh – warm and hearty and truthful – it was almost infectious, if Sherlock wouldn’t be surprised by his reaction.  
Martin scratched the back of his head with his right hand.  
“Well, I’m such a doofus. It was obvious, you’re right.” He grinned. “Great, now I have made a fool of myself. Um, you know what, we do that first hello again. Just delete my stupid question, out of your... mind palace.” Martin winked.  
He just turned around, walked a few meters away from Sherlock, who looked absolutely puzzled and irritated by Martins babbling, winking and that he was just walking away.

Martin turned around again.  
And he walked towards Sherlock again – with a big truthful smile on his face.  
He stopped in front of Sherlock, beamed up to him, with warm blue eyes.  
And Sherlock still looked irritated.  
Martin reached out his hand.  
“Hello, Sherlock, it’s great to meet you, finally. I hope, you aren’t waiting here for half an hour. I just needed to pick up some food, and well, then there was a bit of small talk. I’m really sorry.” Martin smiled widely.  
Sherlock blinked a few times, and then he needed to smile as well, in fact, he needed to grin. Martin just played the first meeting again, to make a better impression of himself. Sherlock still grinned, and now Martin grinned as well, which made Sherlock grin even wider – this beaming smile and grin of Martin, was just too infectious. And normally, the only person who made him grin or laugh truthfully was John.  
“Hello, Martin.” He still grinned, and shook Martin’s hand. And this time it wasn’t the right amount of time to shake someone’s hand. It was too long, it felt too nice. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” He heard himself say out loud. And he felt, that he meant it. “I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. It’s okay, we haven’t been appointed. Mark just said, that you would like, if I pay you a visit.” He babbled.  
Martin smiled.  
“Well, that’s really great.” He smiled. His free hand fumbled the key out of his trouser pocket. He unlocked the trailer. “Get in.” Martin smiled. 

Sherlock took the few steps and got into the trailer.  
Martin followed and closed the door.  
“Just sit down, make yourself comfortable.” Martin smiled, and put the plate and the banana onto the table. “Are you hungry? Or do you need a tea or something. I can just offering black tea or water. But if you need something else, I could go back to the catering.” He said softly, and slipped out of the Watson-jacket.   
Sherlock watched him, and looked around, before he looked to Martin again. He put off his scarf, and slipped out of his coat. And he sat down – opposite of Martin, onto the bench.  
“No, I’m not really hungry.” He said, and looked to Martins filled plate – the food almost slipped from the plate. His stomach growled. And the cheeks blushed immediately.

Martin grinned at him. He looked around and fetched up another fork and knife, which he hadn’t brought back after cleaning them up. He took them and reached them to Sherlock. And the plate, he shoved into the middle of the table.   
Normally he didn’t like it, to share food from one plate, especially when he was really hungry, but Sherlock seemed to be an exception. He already liked him, even so, they had just met for the first time, even so, he seemed to be an anti-social, rude and arrogant show-off.   
But at the moment, Sherlock didn’t make that impression.  
Sherlock bowed his head, surprised by the gesture.  
“It’s not necessary.”  
“It is, your stomach growled.”  
“That was embarrassing.”  
“Just a bit.” Martin grinned. “If you want to pretend to be not hungry the next time, you should be sure, that your stomach isn’t growling right after it.” Martin winked.  
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that.” Sherlock said dryly.  
Martin laughed.  
“Just take the cutlery and eat with me, before I take back my offer.” He laughed.   
Sherlock looked at him, he was surprised, again. He had made that guy laugh twice, during the last few minutes. Normally people didn’t laugh about his jokes, or comments.   
Martin looked at him, on his fork were already a few noodles.   
“Please eat, Sherlock. I’m feeling like a greedy pig, because my plate is filled so much, that the food nearly drools onto the table.” Martin smiled.

Sherlock needed to smile, and he took the fork.  
“As if you would mind, if someone thinks you’re a greedy pig. You’re loving food, and I’m sure, the plate is always filled liked that.”  
“It’s in a way scary that you know, that I don’t give a shit about what other people say about me and that I love food, and that you know, that I’m always eating that much,... and on the other hand it’s amazing.” Martin beamed to him, and put the fork into his mouth.  
Sherlock picked at the salad.  
“It’s scary to see a second John, and myself, even though, it’s mostly just the clothes, but it’s creepy. And it’s scary to see someone, who almost looked like my brother. And on the other hand, it is amazing.” Sherlock said, and he was stunned, that it was that easy to talk with someone, he knew since a few minutes.  
“Well, I can understand that.” Martin smiled. “But, I’m really happy, to get to know you. I mean it was quite a long time. It’s great to see you. It’s great to see the real Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock swallowed the salad.  
“Why is everyone so excited to meet me?”  
“The show is named after you.” Martin smiled. “I mean, it’s in a way your life, even though the script is a bit different. And so, one would love to get to know the real persons behind these characters. It’s like this with every based on a true story series, or film. It’s just great to meet the real person, and it’s possible with you and John and all the others. And it helps to act better, more accurate. I mean, I’m playing John, but well, I’m playing your best friend and flatmate, and I was really curious, how the person is I live with.” He winked.  
Sherlock watched him.  
“And would you live with me?”  
“Not if I would need to share my plate with you every time.” Martin said with a boyish, cheeky and sassy voice.  
Sherlock wanted to put the fork into his mouth, the fork full of pasta – but he needed to laugh very heartily.

Martin wobbled with his eyebrows.  
Was John really sure that Sherlock was a cold hearted, rude and arrogant show-off, who just laughed at crime scenes, or with John? Was this really Sherlock in front of him?  
Of course, he looked like Sherlock, and his gaze had been slightly arrogant, and his voice had sounded a bit bored and rude and arrogant.  
But, since they met, they talked and talked and talked. And he was smiling, and grinning, and laughing; he even was eating – without being grumpy or anything else.  
It was absolutely easy to talk with Sherlock.   
It seemed to be the easiest thing on planet earth.

Sherlock calmed down, and answered before he ate the pasta from his fork.  
“No, you wouldn’t need to share your food that much. I’m really not the biggest food fan in the world. And when I’m eating, I’m also normally not one for sharing.”  
“Fine, so if I would be allowed to have a second fridge, maybe I would be able to live with you.” Martin smiled with a wink, and a grin. “Are there really body parts in your fridge?”  
Sherlock grinned again. This Martin was really funny, and he was flattered by his winks, and beaming, smiling eyes.  
“Yeah, but you should hide the fridge, otherwise, I would use your fridge without asking, when the first one is filled.” Sherlock admitted. ”And yes, there are. At the moment a pair of... “

Martin cut him off, raised his fork.  
“I’m eating. I love food, I would love that this food stays in my stomach, and I don’t know when I’m able to eat today again. So please, don’t plant creepy pictures in my head.” Martin said softly and gently. “The things they build here, are already looking very real and disgusting, and I know they aren’t real.”  
Sherlock smiled softly. Cutting him off wasn’t the best way to become plus points, but Martin had done it in such a charming way, that his head and heart and stomach told him, that everything was fine.  
He smiled and he couldn’t help himself, but grin cheekily. He wiggled his hand and fingers.  
Martin had understood, what was lying in the fridge, his mouth was full with salad and pasta, but his foot was working really good. He kicked Sherlock’s shin bone under the table.

“And I thought, I would be the rude one.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  
“Oh, you should come here more often, to get to know me, then you will notice that I’m a rude and grumpy, sassy and childish boy. Now shut the fuck up and eat.” Martin grinned, and waved with his fork.

Sherlock really couldn’t believe what was happening.  
Normally, he didn’t eat; normally, he didn’t share his food.  
Normally, he didn’t like to be social - and until now, he need to admit, at least to himself, that he was enjoying the day.  
Normally, he didn’t like it, if some told him what to do, or if someone cuts him off; normally he was sulking immediately, when someone was talking with him like that, that he should shut the fuck up.  
But Martin did all that in such a charming way, that his whole body sent the information, that everything was fine and great and lovely.  
And these winks sent other messages to his brain:

**A cute guy is winking at you, and you like it.**  
A cute guy is winking at you, and you like it, and you find, that he looks good in this jumper you normally didn’t like.  
Oh, you like his winks so much. And his blue beaming eyes, and his infectious smile.   
Wink, wink, wink. 

And his mind palace built a new room – and on the door was standing a name.  
Martin Freeman.


	4. A train ride

_**\- Friday, May/27 – 2016, 8.20 pm, Wales – London -** _

It could have been worse; Sherlock thought, when he was sitting in the car, that should drive him to the central station in Cardiff.  
The food sharing with Martin had been nice, and totally unexpected, he had enjoyed their conversations. After their lunch, Martin had made them a cup of tea, which they had drunk while they had talked about the series. And after their tea, Martin had shown him the Sherlock set, and for half an hour they had watched Robert and Mark during their work, during a scene.  
Martin had needed to work again.  
And so he had gone with Mark, Sue and Steven to their trailer, to answer their questions. And it hadn’t been as annoying as he thought it would be.  
It wasn’t easy for him to explain all his deductions calmly and patiently. It wasn’t easy for him to repeat himself a lot of times. These were things he didn’t like – all the explaining and repeating. For him, that all was totally clear and obvious, and he couldn’t understand why other people were often so ignoring in context of the facts and the obvious. It wasn’t the problem, that he couldn’t explain it; the problem was, that he didn’t want to explain obvious things, to people who weren’t observant.  
But he had managed it, at least, without getting really rude.  
He had been a bit rude, and a bit grumpy, and he had looked a bit annoyed and bothered; but Mark, Sue and Steven, had apologized a few times, and had made clear, that it was a bit difficult for them to understand all that properly, but that they really would love to understand it properly, to make a good series.  
And so he had calmed down a bit.  
Actually, they had been really nice to him the whole day, even when he had been a bit unfriendly – it wouldn't have been fair, to get really grumpy and to be really rude. 

The left rear door of the car got opened again, before the car was able to set off.  
Martin got into the car, smiled at him.  
Sherlock bowed his head.  
The driver turned around.  
“Oh, Mr. Freeman. I’m sorry, I didn’t know, that you need a ride as well.”  
Martin smiled at Sherlock, and turned his head to the driver.  
“No problem. Actually, I wanted to drive with Amanda, but I changed my mind.” He smiled, and leaned back.  
The driver smiled and nodded, and then he set off.  
Sherlock eyed Martin, who put his bag down – between his feet. And he wore casual clothes now. A black polo-shirt, a light dark blue jacket, dark jeans, sneakers, and he wore glasses.

“I hope, I didn’t bother you, Sherlock. I thought we both could travel back to London together. Well, we don’t need to talk, but when I travel with you, you aren’t alone.” Martin smiled.  
Sherlock looked at him. He was surprised that Martin searched his nearness; after all, they had almost spent Martin’s two hour break together.  
“You don’t bother me.” He said. “And, I think I can take care of myself. So you hadn’t needed to ride with the train with me.”  
“Oh, I’m sure, you can take care of yourself. You shouldn’t get involved in something, where you need a helping or lifesaving hand. I’m incapable to save your life.” Martin grinned. “I just thought, it could be nice, to travel home with you.”  
“I’m stretched to breaking point, what you will say, after the train travel of three hours and eight minutes back to London.”  
Martin grinned, because of Sherlock’s accurate information about the travel time.  
“I was able to spend almost two hours with you, I think I will manage three hours,... and eight minutes.” Martin chuckled softly. “If you bother me, I just pretend to sleep, or whatever.”  
“So you will probably sleep the whole time.”  
“Oh, for someone who’s really confident with his knowledge and show off with it, you’re absolutely insecure with yourself as a human being.” Martin stated. “I really enjoyed my break today. And I will enjoy the train ride.”  
Sherlock looked at him, but turned his head away to his window.  
But Martin had been able to see the light smile, which had been really soft.  
He smiled to himself, and looked out of the window as well. 

 

Their ride to the central station in Cardiff lasted forty minutes, and when they arrived at the central station, Martin bought himself a ticket.  
Their train left the station at 9.25 pm.  
Martin and Sherlock searched for a single apartment. At the end of the train they found one single apartment, nobody was sitting in it.  
Martin laid his bag on the luggage rack – Amanda had taken his suitcase and his other bag, he would fetch them up tomorrow, after a nice breakfast with her. He slipped out of his shoes, sat down and laid his legs onto the rest of the seats.  
Sherlock took a seat opposite of him, he stretched out his legs.

Martin turned his head to him.  
“That coat and scarf is like your superhero costume.”  
“I’m not a superhero.” Sherlock said a bit rude  
“I know, that’s why I said, like, not it is.” Martin smiled. “So, just calm down.” He winked. “It suits you very well.”  
“Sorry.” Sherlock said more nicely.  
“It’s fine. The day wasn’t easy for you, right? A lot of people, a lot of conversations and small talks, and explanations and repeating. It’s something you’re not really used to.” Martin bowed his head.  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, and it wasn’t my wish to be there today. John just pushed me into it. He annoyed me a whole week with this.” Sherlock said. “It was okay. I thought it would be worse. You were all nice to me, even when I was rude. You all have been very welcome, and made it a bit easier for me.”  
Martin smiled.  
“It would be always like that.”  
“Was that an invitation to come to the film set again?” Sherlock smiled a bit.  
“You’re such a clever man.” Martin winked.  
They looked at each other, and needed to grin.  
And then they giggled with each other.

After their giggles, silence fell over the last apartment of the train.  
Sherlock looked out of the window, and texted John, who had been curious, if he had scared off the whole film set or if everything had been okay.  
Martin’s legs were angled, he drew little circles on his knee, with his forefinger. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t need to talk the whole time, especially because he was exhausted – the week had been long, and the day as well. He was tired, and so the silence was in a way very welcome. And Sherlock’s presence was welcome as well. Of course, he liked it to travel back with Amanda, she was one of his closest and longest friends, and it was always fun to travel back with her – but his head and his stomach (and in secret his heart as well) had told him to travel back with Sherlock today.

Martin turned his head to Sherlock, and Sherlock raised his head at the same time. Their eyes met.  
And both, Martin and Sherlock, were lost immediately.  
Sherlock was lost in those incredibly warm and deep blue eyes.  
Martin was lost in those almost silver sparkling eyes.  
They cleared their throats after an awkward long moment. 

Sherlock turned his head away, and looked out of the window.  
Martin turned his head away, and looked down to his knees, played with his jeans.  
Sherlock cleared his throat again.  
“So, how much John Watson stuck into you?” Sherlock asked.  
“Oh, haven’t you deduced that, genius?” Martin smiled, he still eyed his knee and played with the jeans.  
Sherlock still looked out of the window, but he could literally see Martin smile.  
“I have, and I know, that you’re as much John Watson, as I am Anderson.” He needed to cut off his sentence, because Martin was laughing really hard.  
And this warm voice in combination with a laugh, was already the best music in Sherlock’s ears. Normally he really liked silence, but he could listen to Martin all day long. He really liked this warm and nasal voice; and probably, Martin could explain him the solar system, and he would listen – just to hear Martin’s voice.  
And the laugh was totally infectious, that he couldn’t help it - he grinned and giggled softly as well.

Martin calmed down, and ran is hand through his hair, he adjusted his glasses and began to play with his jeans at the knee again.  
“I wasn’t finished, but you cut me off with your laugh.” Sherlock grinned out of the window. “I have deduced you already, but, well, it’s more polite to ask you, instead of telling you all that, right?”  
Martin smiled down to his knee.  
“It is, you’re right.” Martin nodded, and he raised his head, turned it to Sherlock and smiled. “I’ve not much in common with your best friend. Despite the fact that we both like tea, and that we like sleep ins, and to be lazy sometimes.” Sherlock had turned his head to him. And now they smiled at each other. "I’m not an adventurous guy, I am quite the opposite. I’m rather at home than anywhere else, and I really don’t need many adventures in my life. The acting is enough, that fulfilled my need of adventures. And I would never use a gun, even though, I know how to use it. I’m not that brave, I probably couldn’t save your life, like John. And I think, I wouldn’t be that loyal and all that. You know, I have no problem telling someone to fuck off, and I think, I would tell you that quite often. I wouldn’t leave work for unimportant things, or just because there is a mad criminal. I mean, I wouldn’t leave you behind, if it would be really important, you know, like an accident or something, then, of course, I would leave my work as soon as possible.” Martin said with a smile.

Sherlock still smiled at him.  
“It’s good that you’re just playing John, otherwise I would be already dead - probably.”  
“You would be, I would have killed you, after your mad rooftop thing.” Martin smirked, and smiled afterwards. “We have talked with John about it. I mean, I can understand it in a way, why you did that, but I think, I would have yelled at you a long time, and then I wouldn’t have talked with you a really long time.”  
Sherlock bowed his head.  
“Well, it wasn’t easy for both of us. It’s not like, I have wanted it this way.”  
“Well, who would want that.” Martin smiled. “It’s not a happy topic. I’m sorry, I mentioned it.” He stood up. “I’m right back, and then we can change the subject.” Martin smiled, and left the apartment. 

Sherlock looked after him.  
This man absolute surprised him.  
There was so much about him; he wasn’t just nice; he was so much more; he was cheeky and sassy and hilariously funny; he was a grumpy bastard, rude – but he was it in such a charming way, that you almost couldn’t get grumpy with him; he was smart and clever, and he was charming and a gentleman. And sometimes, he was all of this at the same time.  
Not to mention that he was really cute, with his grey hair, those blue eyes, and his button nose. Actually, Martin wasn’t the type of man he liked – too small, too fluffy, less muscly.  
But Martin had been the whole day a whole exception – and when it comes to his look, it was the same. He was just too cute, he was just too handsome, he just had that certain something.  
And his head put something else into Martin’s room in his mind palace, which was already filled with a lot of things.  
**And you find him quite hot.**

The room was filled with information he had deduced throughout the day.

**Martin Freeman**  
_\- actor_  
\- bisexual  
\- slightly older  
\- 5’6” – exactly 14 cm smaller  
\- little tummy  
\- clever, attentively, cheeky, charming, sassy, loves to fool around, grumpy  
\- perfectionist  
\- swears a lot – especially with fuck  
\- glasses, but don’t need them, just an accessory  
\- big family, a few siblings, loves his family, would love to have more time for them – family person  
\- loves food and tea and sweets  
\- loves music, especially records  
\- loves books  
\- loves clothes  
\- loves stay ins, loves to be at home, but loves his job as well  
\- not adventurous 

He needed to blink a few times.  
Martin was back, had pulled him out of his mind palace, out of his new Martin room.  
Martin sat opposite of him, watched him, and smiled softly.  
“Jesus, I mean, it took me a while to use the loo and to come back, but I’m sitting here for ten minutes, and you really didn’t notice anything. It’s amazing to see the real thing.”  
Sherlock blinked again.  
“I’m sorry. I was in thoughts.”  
“It’s fine.” Martin smiled. “I just watched you. It’s fascinating to see you while you’re in your mind palace.”  
“You’re impressed by me just sitting here with closed eyes.”  
“And folded hands.” Martin smiled.  
“Are you always impressed that fast?”  
“No, you’re an exception.” Martin smiled, and laid his legs again comfortably onto the seats.  
Sherlock smiled, and ran his hand briefly through his dark curls.

 

Every now and then a pleasant silence fell over the apartment.  
And when the train arrived in London at 0.33 am., they both got out, walked through the station and outdoors.  
Martin smiled, and shouldered his bag again.  
He reached his hand to Sherlock.  
“Well, it was really nice to meet you. I hope, we will see us again, one day. I wouldn’t mind, if you sneak into my trailer sometimes.”  
Sherlock smiled, he shook Martin’s hand.  
“Maybe I will break in sometimes.” He needed to grin, because of Martin’s amused face. “We could share a cab, maybe.”  
“I’m looking forward, sneaking genius.” Martin winked, and got a smile from Sherlock. “And, no. Um, I live in Hertfordshire.”  
“That means, that you’re at least an hour on the road again. You would have been much faster, with, um... what was her name?”  
“I know. And it’s Amanda.” Martin smiled. “I was really happy with my train ride and my companion.” Martin smiled.  
Sherlock smiled – flattered. He stopped a cab, opened the door, and held it open for Martin.  
“It’s yours.” Sherlock smiled.

Martin smiled widely, he got in, and after he got in, he rolled down the window.  
“Thank you.” Martin smiled out of the car. “Such a nice and polite young man.” Martin winked and raised his hand.

Sherlock smiled again, and he raised his hand as well, when the cab set off.


	5. I sneaked a peek

_**\- Saturday, May/27 – 2016, 1.50 am, Hertfordshire, Potters Bar, Martin's house -** _

Martin had nearly dozed off in the car.  
Almost, just almost.  
But when he had been right before dozing off, the cabbie had parked in front of his house.  
He had paid, gotten out, and strolled to his front door.  
He hadn’t done much. He had just drank a glass of water, and then he had used the shower and the toilet.

A few seconds ago, he had brushed his teeth, and now he was scuffling into his bedroom.  
He fell onto his mattress, and pulled the blanket above his head.  
His eyes were closed; he sighed, and snuggled his head onto his pillow. He wrapped the blanket around his nearly naked body – he just wore a boxer brief.  
He smiled with closed eyes, when he thought about the day – when he thought about Sherlock.  
He had been curious a long time, and he had been really happy, when Mark had told him yesterday, that Shelock would come over for a visit.  
He had expected a completely other person.  
He hadn’t expected such a great chemistry between them.  
This was chemistry, he was sure – there was a huge chemistry between them.  
And he really liked it. And he asked himself, if Sherlock would pronounce it as chemistry as well.

He sighed again, yawned, snuggled more into the pillow.  
He saw Sherlock in front of his eyes.  
He had seen a few pictures of him beforehand, but to see him for real, to see him that close, had been something else.  
This man looked gorgeous, with his pale skin and his dark, curly hair. Jesus, and those eyes, and these cheekbones, and fuck it, those lips.  
His last relationship with a man, his last sex with a man was quite a while ago. And Sherlock, actually, wasn’t his type of man – normally. He was quite the opposite of men he normally found attractive.  
He rubbed his eyes, bit his lip.  
It was creepy to think about Sherlock like that. He played his sidekick, he played with Robert, whom he called Sherlock. And now he had met the real Sherlock, and thought, that he was pretty hot. It was a bit strange and confusing.

He snuggled his face into the pillow, and just let his brain set Sherlock’s face in front of his eyes.  
There was nothing wrong with him, there was nothing wrong when he thought that a man would be attractive.  
He was about to doze off, when his mobile phone buzzed.  
He sighed, and just wanted to ignore it, but it buzzed again.  
He pressed his eyes close, he just wanted to sleep, but he was too curious who it was, that he rolled on his back and grabbed his mobile phone from the bedside drawer.  
He pressed the menu button.

An unknown number, and he was able to read a bit of the text. He looked irritated, typed his code and opened the messages.

\----------------------------------------

_I hope you’re safely at home. Sleep well. S.H._

_If you’re already asleep. Then good morning. S.H._

\----------------------------------------

Martin scratched his head, ran his hand through his hair.  
Was this Sherlock? But, they hadn’t exchanged numbers, hadn’t they?  
He was confused, and wrote back.

\----------------------------------------

**_Is that you, Sherlock?_ **

_Obviously. SH are my initials._

**_Since when are you this inaccurate? It would be: W.S.S.H._ **

_I don’t like the other names, so I just pretend they don’t exist._

**_I like William. Maybe I will just call you William or Will. How long would I live after I call you William or Will? M.J.C.F._ **

_As long as it will take me to pay you a visit, so probably an hour, or a few minutes more. What’s the meaning of C? John already told me, that your second name is John, but what’s your third name?_

**_Okay, I just call you Sherlock. ;-). Christopher, is my third name._ **

_Thank goodness. Oh, I like the name, I like all your names, but I keep calling you Martin._

**_Wow, a compliment. :-) Thank my mother, she gave me these names._ **

**_You’ve distracted me! How it comes that you’ve my number? It’s not possible to deduce that._ **

\----------------------------------------

He still lay on his back, and now he was wide awake again, at least he had the feeling to be wide awake.  
And probably Sherlock was wide awake as well; no, he was sure, that he was wide awake for real.  
He already yawned again. And he read the new message.

\----------------------------------------

_When you went to the loo on the train, you put your mobile phone onto the seat._

**_You sneaked my number out of my phone, while I was on the loo? It was passcode saved! Okay, that’s not a barrier for you._ **

_Right, it was easy, you talked about that special date today. I got it right, after the first attempt. Are you grumpy now?_

**_Unbelievable. No, I am surprisingly not grumpy. You know, you could have just asked for my number?_ **

_And you would have given me your number?_

**_Of course._ **

_Good. So, it’s not bad hat I’ve sneaked it before asking. But if you want, I can ask you now. Can I please have your number?_

\----------------------------------------

Martin laughed, and rubbed his sleepy and tired eyes.  
This man was unbelievable.  
He was in a way totally like John had described him so often – sneaky, rude, arrogant, a show-off.  
And then he was so totally not like John had described him, or it was just his own point of view – but Sherlock made him laugh, with his comments and his behavior, and he had been nice and kind and polite – almost the whole time yesterday – when they had been together.  
Maybe he liked it, because he was rude, and sassy and grumpy as well.

\-------------------------------------------------

**_Yes, you can have my number. :-D. As if you would delete it, if I would say no right now._ **

_I could delete it – number is saved in my mind palace. :-D. (I don’t know why I put a silly smiley into this message. Your laugh is infectious – even though I haven’t seen you laughing right now. I will never send a smiley again. >:-[ Why am I babbling?)_

**_There already is a second smiley. :-D. Maybe you’re sleepy and that’s why you’re babbling, such a nonsense. ;-)  
_ **

_Stop laughing :-D (Now, I needed a smiley again. It’s stupid, and it looks creepy in my message box) And I’m not sleepy, I’m wide awake, sitting in my armchair._

**_I can’t stop laughing. You’re too funny :-D. Well, I’m sleepy, and I’m lying in my bed._ **

_I am funny? I think you have to be really sleepy, to think that I am funny._

**_I’m really sleepy, I was about to fall asleep when you texted me. But I think you’re funny, anyway. You’ve made me laugh yesterday quite often, and now too. By the way, let me tell you something – don’t dare to spam me like you spam John. When I’m at work, then I’m at work, and then my mobile phone isn’t with me. So it’s your problem when you’re sulking then. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean that in a rude way. It’s just, that I’m often really busy, so it will take me a while to answer you. If I didn’t answer after a few minutes or hours, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to text or talk with you. It’s, unfortunately, with everyone like that. It’s really not about you, Sherlock._ **

_First thing: I’m glad, that I’m able to make you laugh. I think, I should say thank you, for that compliment. So, Thank You, Martin. Second thing: It’s my personality, I’m sorry for that already. I will try not to sulk or getting upset with you. I’m probably the most impatient person in the world. And, I mostly don’t like it, if someone tells me what to do, or what not to do. But, Martin, please, if I’m bothering you, or annoy you, tell me or text me that. I really don’t want to scare you off. But, well, I am like I am. I can’t guarantee anything._

**_My pleasure, to your Thank You. It’s fine, Sherlock. I just wanted to say, that it is not about you, when I’m not writing back. I would love to have more time to write all the people back, who write me. And I will tell you if you're bothering me, I promise. Thank you for trying :-). The little actor need to sleep now, but he wishes the tall detective a good night, even though, he isn’t tired at the moment._ **

_I know what you mean, Martin. I think, it’s okay for me. I will give my best. (I don’t know, why I’m playing this with you, but I do it anyway.) The tall detective wishes the small actor sweet dreams, I hope, he can sleep well._

**_;-) Good night, Sherlock._ **

_Good night, Martin._

\----------------------------------------

Martin smiled, and laid the phone back onto the bedside drawer.  
That was a great thing to do before going to sleep.

When he had begun to shoot BBC Sherlock as Watson, he had thought, that he could never be friends with someone like Sherlock.  
And now they had met for the first time, they had shared a few hours together, and he already had the feeling, that they are friends.  
It worked so well, and it was so easy to talk to Sherlock, and it was easy not to talk with him, it was easy to laugh with him, to grin with him, to smile with him. It was easy to get a bit mad with him, to get a bit grumpy and upset with him.

He was curious to what kind of relationship would the chemistry he felt lead them.


	6. Important knowledge on boring days

_**\- Thursday, June/2 until Sunday, June/5 – 2016, London, 221B Baker Street, living room, leather sofa -** _

A minute ago, John had left their flat – he was on his way to a medical fair, and he would come back on Sunday.  
Sherlock looked to the open door, he waited until he heard the door in the basement. And when he heard the sound of the door, who was falling into the lock, he stood up. He walked with his bare feet across the coffee table, and shut the door of the flat. He scratched the back of his head and looked around in search of his laptop. He walked to the table, and rummaged through all the papers and documents, books and newspapers, and all the other stuff.  
Sherlock sighed, and dropped a lot of books down onto the table, when he remembered that his laptop was in his bedroom. He walked through the living room and through the hallway right into his bedroom. And with his laptop, he walked back to the sofa.

Sherlock laid down and laid the laptop onto his lap.  
He pressed the on-button and waited.  
As always, on a boring day like today, he just wore a grey T-shirt, his dark blue pajama pants, and his dark blue dressing gown. He ruffled through his hair.  
No case today, but he would fill this awful boring day, these awful boring days without John, with research – a really important research for really important information and a really important knowledge, which need to be in his mind palace.

As soon as the laptop was ready, Sherlock clicked on the internet button – he went to Google, and typed in a few letters:  
**Martin Freeman**

Immediately a few pictures and a small information showed up.  
At first the pictures – he switched the site and scrolled through all the pictures, which showed up. He eyed all the pictures of Martin – Martin, in a suit; Martin, as Watson; Martin, at a premiere, a ceremony, a photo shoot; Martin, smiling, grinning, laughing, looking normal, looking serious; Martin, in younger years; Martin, with a lot of different beards (And it was quite difficult for Sherlock to decide if he was more attractive with or without a beard. Even that ridiculous mustache, that John was wearing, looked good at him – it made him less attractive, but this man was so hot, that even this ugly mustache let him still look hot.); Martin, in casual wear; Martin, with glasses and hats and flat caps; Martin, dressed up as different characters.

Almost three hours, he had just eyed pictures of Martin – he had searched in more details.  
And if he should pick a favourite Martin, it would be:  
_Martin Freeman with:_  
 _\- grey hair – preferable a bit longer, like he wore it at the moment._  
 _\- glasses – the one he had worn at the train ride back to London_.  
 _\- a beard – oh, the Richard-beard was great, but also the beard from a film called Whisky Tango Foxtrot was really great._  
 _\- a polo-shirt or a button up shirt: no, with a suit; no, with the polo –shirt or a button up shirt; or maybe the suit – it was too difficult to decide that, more difficult than the beard question, and this was already impossible to answer. He just looked too handsome, and Sherlock really liked his fashion style._

Sherlock sighed, he stretched his legs and arms, and circled his head and shoulders.  
He switched the site again, and read the information about Martin.  
And he learned Martin’s full name again, and that he would turn 45 on September the 8. So, Martin was exactly 4 years, 3 months, and 29 days older than him. He learned, that he was born in Aldershot, and that he now lived in Potters Bar. He has been an actor since 1997, and beforehand, he had done a lot of theatre; he is a pescetarian, and not married or in a relationship with someone at the moment. And Sherlock could read a lot of Martins earlier live; things about his siblings and family.  
After that he read his filmography, and he read which awards he had won.  
Sherlock smiled when he read that he had won a BAFTA for his role as John Watson.

Sherlock put all these information into his mind palace, into Martins room, which became bigger and bigger.  
He rubbed his eyes; the reading was a bit exhausting after a while, as well as looking at pictures for three hours – but he was so curious that he kept going.  
Now he was reading interviews.  
He read and read and read, without a break.

 

Sherlock raised his head a bit confused, when he was about starting YouTube videos with Martin. The one, he wanted to start was a published Late Night Show video host by a guy called Graham Norton.  
He blinked a few times.  
Why was the room that dark?  
A few minutes ago, the sunlight had beamed into the flat. He was absolutely sure about that.  
He looked around, stood up, walked across the coffee table and went to a window.  
Darkness.  
Street lights lit up the night.  
Sherlock puckered his lips, and wrinkled his forehead.  
He turned his head to the clock.  
It was already shortly before midnight.

Sherlock sighed, he used the loo, and then he didn’t waste more time; he sat down again, took his laptop and began to watch a lot of YouTube videos with Martin.

He was totally into it; he clicked on every single video, watched every single video. It was great to hear him talk, and he liked what he had to say. And in some of the videos, he was really cheeky and sassy – which made Shelock grin, or laugh. To be honest, every time Martin appeared in a video he watched, he needed to smile like a maniac, like a stupid little teen, like a freaky fan. But he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t able to hold it back – and of course, he had tried it. His efforts and tries had failed massively. It was an impossible mission, not to grin, when Martin was on screen.

 

On the next morning, he stood up again – to use the toilet again, and to take a shower. All other things were a waste of time, but his stomach was growling, and so he took just one of the potato crisps bags and one of the Doritos bags from John out of a cupboard.  
He needed to watch Martin’s series and movies, and all the other stuff he had shot (on websites, which weren’t really legal and which weren’t really illegal); he hadn’t time for making breakfast.

He had started the movie about this non-existing creature in this non-existing world: The Hobbit.  
Finally, Martin appeared on the bench with his pipe.  
Jesus, even dressed up like this hairy hobbit, Martin looked cute and handsome; Sherlock thought.

The door to the flat opened.  
Mrs. Hudson went in.  
“Sherlock, do you want to eat breakfast with me?” She asked motherly.  
Sherlock shut the laptop, immediately.  
“I’m busy!” He said annoyed. Now he was losing time, because of Mrs. Hudson and her caring; that didn’t please him. He liked Mrs. Hudson, but now, she just bothered him.  
“You could stop that for a while. What are you doing?” She said, and smiled.  
Sherlock turned his head to her; his hair was tousled and damp.  
“I’m busy!” He said again, ignoring the question.  
“Are you sulking, because John is away?”  
“I’m not sulking! I’m busy!” He said, and ruffled his hair.  
“But you really need to eat, Sherlock. Shall I bring you something upstairs?” Mrs. Hudson still smiled.  
Sherlock raised the open Doritos bag.  
“I’m having breakfast. And I’m busy, leave me alone!” He said sulkily.  
“Oh, Sherlock, that’s bad food! You can’t just eat crisps.” She said.  
“These aren’t crisps.” Sherlock said, and looked at the bag and read the information. “These are Doritos! It’s a different thing! Now, leave me alone!” He shoved the laptop onto the coffee table, laid down and turned around; he faced the backrest of the sofa; and he wrapped his dressing gown around him.  
Mrs. Hudson hummed and mumbled something, but she left and closed the door.

Sherlock waited a moment, turned his head around slowly.  
She was gone, the door was closed.  
He turned around again. Mrs. Hudson would still like him, even though he had been very rude a minute ago.  
He sat up, took the laptop and the Doritos again. He opened the laptop, pressed play and buried his hand deep down into the Doritos bag.

A few hours later, when Lestrade showed up – seemingly with a case – Sherlock just yelled rudely:  
“I’m busy! Leave me alone! Leave me all alone! Out of my flat!”  
Lestrade disappeared without a word, but he drank a tea with Mrs. Hudson, talking with her about the sulking Sherlock above them.

But Sherlock wasn’t sulking, he was just busy with Martin’s movies and series, and while he was watching, he ate the bag with the crisps.  
It was the same on Saturday and Sunday. He had eaten all of John’s crisps bags, Doritos, chocolate, gummy bears and popcorn. And John had been mad and upset with him, when he had wanted to eat crisps on Sunday evening – but all his candy had been gone.

 

“It had been for an important experiment!” Sherlock had just stated, when John had yelled at him.


	7. The real 221B Baker Street

_**-Saturday, June/11 – 2016, evening, London, 221B Baker Street -** _

A knocking sound at the front door of 221B Baker Street, let Mrs. Hudson stand up from her sofa. She was watching one of her favourite tv programs.  
Half an hour ago she had visited Sherlock, to bring him his washed clothes – but Sherlock hadn’t been in a good mood. He was sulking, because John was having a date tonight, and that after they had just been back from a case. Sherlock had complained, because John had left him behind with a few grazes on his face, and a burst lip and a little cut on the forehead. Mrs. Hudson had soothed him motherly a few minutes – but Sherlock’s mood hadn’t been bearable.

Mrs. Hudson walked to the front door. She opened the door, and she smiled immediately.  
“You’re Martin Freeman. You’re playing our lovely John. Oh, I love this series so much. Come in, come in, boy.” She smiled widely, and dragged him in, with the pizza boxes, he held in his hand.  
Martin smiled, and grinned slightly.  
“Well, yes. I am. Good evening Mrs. Hudson. It’s nice to meet you, finally.” He said charmingly.  
They shook hands.  
“Aw, Martin. It’s nice to meet you, too.” She said flattered. “We need to take a picture. Come with me.” She said excitedly.  
Martin grinned, and followed her into her flat.  
She wasn’t really looking like Una. They both were quite old, but Mrs. Hudson wore glasses, and her hair was a bit longer, a bit more blonde and a bit more grey. 

Mrs.Hudson walked into her living room; she took her camera and looked to Martin, who had put down his pizza boxes onto the kitchen table.  
She smiled at him, and got a smile back, and they took a picture with Mrs. Hudson’s camera.  
She still smiled really excitedly.  
“Do you want to see John, Martin?” Mrs. Hudson asked.   
“Um, no. No, I don’t want to visit John. Actually, I wanted to pay Sherlock a visit. Is he at home?”  
Mrs. Hudson bowed her head.  
“Sherlock is at home, but his mood is really bad. He had been on a case with John, and right after solving it, John left him behind to go on a date. He’s sulking and complaining, because of John and a few small cuts and grazes. So be aware. Probably he’s yelling at you.”  
“Well, I’m really good at yelling an being grumpy as well.” Martin grinned. “If he’s a prick, I come downstairs and then we both share the pizza.”  
Mrs. Hudson grinned.  
“Oh, I’m not much into pizza, but you’re welcome, if he’s rude to you.” She smiled. “Thanks for the picture, Martin.”  
“My pleasure, Mrs.Hudson.” Martin smiled. “I will say goodbye later.”  
They shook hands again – and then Martin went out of the living room into the kitchen, he took the pizza boxes and went upstairs.

It was a bit strange, even the hallway looked exactly like the 221B Baker Street set, just without cameras, and sound and cables and people and lights.   
The door to the flat was closed, so Martin knocked.  
A second later, a deep and dark voice was yelling.  
“Leave me alone! I don’t want to eat dinner! I don’t want to drink tea! I don’t want to talk! And I don’t want to watch stupid programs with you, Mrs. Hudson! Even if I wanted,... I’m busy!”  
Martin raised his eyebrow. It was impressing, it was scary, and it was in a way really funny to see, or to be precise, to hear that in real life – to hear the real Sherlock yelling.  
“Well, I’m not a woman. It’s Martin. And I don’t give a shit that you’re sulking on your sofa. I want to pay you a visit, so move your fucking ass. I’m here with pizza and my voice, so you will eat, and talk with me.”   
Sherlock had opened his eyes right after he had heard Martins voice. And in fact, he had been lying on the sofa – sulking.   
He puckered his lips, looked down. He was still wearing his white shirt, which was covered with blood, and he hadn’t been in the shower, yet – he had been busy with sulking.  
Great, he needed to open the door for that handsome man, in such a sweaty and dirty look.

He went to the door, when Martin stopped speaking.  
Martin looked up to him.  
“Bloody hell, Sherlock! What the fuck happened?” Martin asked when he saw Sherlock.  
“Just come in.” Sherlock said, and stepped aside.  
Martin eyed him, and entered the flat. He looked around – stunned. It absolutely looked like the flat set, Arwel and his team had built.  
“Are you alive enough to eat a pizza?” Martin asked, while walking through the flat and putting the pizza down onto the table.  
Sherlock looked after him, he bowed his head, closed the door and followed Martin, who sat down at the table in the living area.  
Sherlock sat down as well, looked at Martin, who smiled softly.  
“Normally, I don’t eat pizza.” Sherlock said.  
“Sherlock, is there anything that’s normal with you? I mean, I’m sitting here with you at a really untidy table, and you’re covered in dry blood, which is on your shirt, face and in your hair. I think you will be able to eat an abnormal pizza.” Martin winked.  
Sherlock looked at him, eyed him, with his light button up shirt and his jeans. He needed to smile.  
“Maybe,... just maybe, you’re right, and I will enjoy this pizza.”  
Martin smiled with him; he gave him one of the boxes.

Martin still smiled at Sherlock.   
“I hope, I’ve picked something you like. I wanted to surprise you, so I just took a pizza fungi – because,... at the Sherlock set, when we shared the food, you ate most of the mushrooms. But we could change, if you like tuna.”  
“Um, no. Um, no, that we didn’t need to change, I like mushrooms. I’m not that much into tuna.” Sherlock smiled. “Shall I go and change my clothes?”  
“It’s fine Sherlock, let’s eat, and then you can change, if you want to; otherwise the pizza will be cold.” Martin smiled. “I just pretend, it’s fake blood.” He winked softly. “Enjoy the pizza, as much as you can eat of it.” He said kindly.  
Across Sherlock’s face flickered a bigger smile.  
“Um, great. Thanks for the pizza. And enjoy it as well.”  
“My pleasure, Sherlock.”  
They opened the boxes; the pizzas inside were already cut into pieces, and so they just used their hands.

During their eating, they talked with each other.  
“It’s nice that you visit me, but... why?” Sherlock asked curiously.  
Martin swallowed his pizza.  
“There are a few reasons.” Martin smiled. “I was curious; I’ve never seen this flat. Arwel, one of the guys behind BBC Sherlock, had been here once, and otherwise John had been present, while they had built the 221B set for the first time. And well, I wanted to have a look. It’s amazing, it really looked like the 221B set in Cardiff, just without all these people and shooting stuff.” Martin smiled widely, he seemed to be really excited. “And the second reason, I’m having no appointments today, and I was a bit bored after reading and relaxing the whole day.” He took another piece of his pizza. “And the third reason, is the most important reason, why I came here. I haven’t been able to answer your texts properly. I don’t know; how often I have answered you? Maybe three times? I felt a bit sick about it, and I thought, I could use my free time, to pay you a visit, and to talk with you a bit, to make up, for my less texting. You know, um, I just wanted to see you, and look after you.”

Sherlock stopped after half of his pizza, he wasn’t used to food, and a whole pizza was a bit too much at the moment – but he would eat the rest of it tomorrow.  
After Martins third reason, his bad mood was gone, it was, as if he hadn’t been sulking, as if he hadn’t been grumpy and upset and bored and all that.  
He was smiling, just because of Martins truthfully smile, because of Martin’s gesture, because of Martins pure presence.   
That was enough to cheer him up.  
“Really? You just wanted to see me? I mean, you texted me, that you’re often really busy and all that. So, I knew, that I wouldn’t get an answer every time I text you. So why are you feeling sick?”  
“Maybe, because I like you” Martin smiled. “And so, I would like to text you more often, but I’m too busy, and then I’m feeling bad, when I can’t text someone, I like, and who texted me, and would like to hear from me, too.”   
Sherlock looked stunned and surprised and irritated.  
“You like me?”  
“The whole Sherlock crew and cast likes you, Sherlock.” Martin smiled. “And yeah, I like you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t spend my free time with you. Look, maybe you’re not for every person on this planet the easiest person to be with, but it’s easy for me. It’s nice to talk with you, it’s nice to text with you, it’s nice to be quiet with you, and it’s nice to eat a pizza with you. There are always people, who don’t like you, or me, or someone else. One can’t like every person in the world. But you’re really not a person, one isn’t able to like or love. So please, don’t be surprised that I like you.” Martin smiled, and bit into his last piece of pizza.

Sherlock bowed his head, he smiled softly. He wasn’t used to all these social things and friend things, even though it worked with John, and in a way with Molly, and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, at least a bit.  
He was sure, Martin liked him, just like he is, with all his faults, and anti-social behavior, even though he wasn’t an easy person to be with and to handle. He just took him like that, and he didn’t want to change him, just because he was difficult – and he stands up to him, he gives him as good as he gets. And he liked that about Martin.  
“Um, thank you. I’m not good at this, Martin. It’s difficult for me to understand that, and to put it into words, and to speak them out loud. But, well, um,... you’re nice, too. You know,... um, well. I... I like you, too.” He mumbled in a very low voice. “You’re a nice man, I’m happy that you’re here, and bringing a pizza was a nice gesture.” He mumbled very fast.

It had been difficult to understand the low voice and the fast words, but Martin has got it, and he smiled to Sherlock – the blue eyes beamed warmly and happily.  
“Could you repeat that, please. I haven’t understood you.” He said seriously.  
Sherlock looked at him in pure horror, the heart was beating like mad. It had been difficult enough to say it once, and now, Martin wanted, that he repeated his words. That wasn’t possible.  
Martin grinned and patted his hand.  
“Calm down, Sherlock. It’s all good. I have understood you. You don’t have to repeat it. It was just me, fooling around.” He smiled, and patted his hand again.  
Sherlock took a deep breath and blinked a few times.  
“Thank you, Sherlock. Thank you, for these lovely words. I appreciate that.” Martin smiled fondly.  
Sherlock scratched his neck.  
“Hmh, my pleasure.” He muttered.

Martin bowed his head, looked into his empty pizza box, and then again to Sherlock.  
“I’m ready with my pizza. Am I allowed to stay for a while, for a little chat or something,... or do you want me to leave, which would be also fine by the way. I don’t want to disturb or bother you.” Martin said warmly.  
Sherlock looked at him.  
“You, don’t disturb me. I was just sulking. You can stay for a while.”  
“That’s great. Maybe you could tell me something, about... ” He pointed at Sherlock’s, covered with blood, shirt. “... the blood, and the case. Mrs. Hudson said, you had been on a case with John. I would love to hear something about that, and where you get these cuts and grazes from.” Martin said with a curious and interested voice.  
“Yeah, yeah, with pleasure.” Sherlock said with a smile “Um, would you mind, if I use the shower beforehand. I feel really uncomfortable now, with you sitting here, and I’m sitting here, with sweaty hair and dried blood.”  
“I wouldn’t mind.” Martin smiled. “I just make myself comfortable,... in “my armchair”, if you wouldn’t mind.” Martin winked.  
Sherlock smiled a bit more, almost giggled.  
“I wouldn’t mind.”  
They grinned at each other.

While Sherlock used the shower and changed his clothes as fast as possible, Martin was looking around. He was absolutely amazed to stand in the real 221B Baker Street.   
And when he sat down in John’s armchair, it was as comfortable as it was at work.   
He looked forward to the rest of the evening.  
He was really curious about the case, and it was always great to hear Sherlock’s deep and dark voice.  
It was a voice for an audio book.  
If there would be Audiobooks, read by Sherlock Holmes, he would buy them all at once – no matter if it would be a horror story, a corny romance, or the user manual for a bloody microwave.


	8. A teasing John Watson

_**\- Sunday, June/12 – 2016, 3.02 am, London, 221B Baker Street, living room -** _

Sherlock had changed his clothes again, right after Martin had left 221b Baker Street. Beforehand, he had worn a T-Shirt and a nice trouser, now he was wearing his usual bedtime clothes – an old T-shirt and a pajama pants, no socks.   
He fiddled with his mobile phone – a few minutes ago, Martin had written him, that he was back home, and had wished him a good night, and had thanked him for the nice evening.   
And since then Sherlock was grinning happily, to be honest, he was grinning since Martin had left – not because he was happy that he was gone, he was just able to grin now, to grin now like a freaky teenager.  
The evening had been great. The pizza had been tasty (the rest was lying in the fridge now), and the conversation had been great as well. And it was so easy to talk with Martin. He couldn’t just talk and talk and talk, he could also listen very attentively. And he had done that. Martin had listened attentively, he had asked questions, he had been really interested in the case, and his little injuries.  
And after talking about the case, they had talked about books.  
Martin read very often and very much – and he knew a lot of things; he was a clever man, one thing, that Sherlock liked really much about Martin.   
It hadn’t been dumb small talk, it had been a great and deep conversation.

Martin had left the flat shortly before 2 o’clock in the morning – even Mrs. Hudson had been awake, to say goodbye, probably she had been absolutely curious, and probably she still watched some silly programs.   
Sherlock heard the door in the basement.  
John. The date hasn’t been successful.   
He waited for John to come upstairs, but it took the doctor eight minutes and nine seconds to come upstairs.  
And when he entered the flat, he was grinning like mad. 

Sherlock eyed him.  
“Why are you grinning? The date hasn’t been successful, there’s no reason to grin.” Sherlock stated, still fiddled with his mobile phone.  
“Yeah, yeah. Awful woman, but the movie was great. But she wanted to go for a drink after the movie, and I didn’t want to be rude.” John said, still grinning. He came to Sherlock and sat down in his armchair, opposite of Sherlock. The green eyes beamed cheekily to Sherlock.  
“That didn’t answer my question, why you’re grinning. You went out with your I-want-to-fuck-you shirt and shoes."   
“Thanks for reminding me, Sherlock.” John said sarcastically. “I’m grinning because of you, genius.” He wobbled with his eyebrows. “Mrs. Hudson told me, that a certain Mr. Martin Freeman had been here until almost 2 o’clock.”  
Sherlock puckered his lips.  
“And?” He asked rudely.  
John just ignored it. His green eyes beamed in Sherlock’s eyes – which were light blue at the moment.  
“Well, you said eight years, that they are all stupid, silly and dumb, and now Martin is visiting you. You haven’t told me, that he would come over, tonight.” John grinned.

Sherlock eyed him, twirled his mobile phone. His legs were stretched out.  
“Well, I changed my mind. Does that bother you? Do you want me to hate them all again, Dr. Watson?” Sherlock teased, and John rolled with his eyes. “I didn’t know that he would come over. And even if I would have known it, I wouldn’t have told you that.”  
“Just asking, Mr. Holmes!” John teased back. “Oh, a surprise. And he brought you pizza.” John grinned. “Have you eat it?”  
“Yes, he brought pizza. And yes, I have eaten a bit of it.”  
“Mrs. Hudson said, he yelled through the door, that you shall move your fucking ass.” John laughed. “Unbelievable, that he was able to get in. I mean I like it. I’m glad, that he got you out of the sulking mode, Sherlock. You know, I wouldn’t have left you behind, when the injuries had been worse. So there was no need to sulk at all. And I think, you have been pretty happy, when Martin came over and I wasn’t at home.” John grinned.  
“There’s always a reason to sulk.” Sherlock stated, ignored the rest of John’s babbling.

John grinned.  
“Your grin is annoying!” Sherlock said annoyed.  
“I don’t care.” John grinned. “Do you like him? Do you like Martin? He’s a nice bloke, isn’t he?”  
Sherlock looked at him, he didn’t answer.   
John looked at him with waiting eyes; his fingers drummed on the armrest of his armchair. He eyed Sherlock, who eyed him as well. And he just grinned.

They eyed each other for a while.  
John was still grinning, still drumming with his fingers. He didn’t say a word, he waited for a reply.  
Sherlock just looked at him – annoyed and stubborn. He also didn’t say a word, but the grin and the drumming of John was absolutely annoying – he wouldn’t stop that game, he wouldn’t let John win.   
Never. 

John wobbled with his eyebrows.  
If Sherlock wouldn’t answer, he just would talk and talk and talk about Martin. Sherlock wasn’t the only one who was good at teasing and annoying.   
“He’s such a charming gentleman, isn’t he? And he’s a really talented and good actor, and a clever and smart man. You really should watch his movies.”  
Sherlock just looked at John, without moving, without saying a word – but his eyes sparkled for a moment.  
John grinned, he had seen the sparkling.  
“Ohhh. Ohhh. The great Sherlock Holmes had watched the movies secretly.” He grinned. “Oh, let me guess. Your important experiment with my candy, and Mrs. Hudson and Greg said you have sulked, the whole weekend when I was away. You haven’t sulked, you have watched Martins movies and you have eaten all my candy, because you didn’t want to waste any time. You haven’t even texted me.” John grinned, and tapped his forehead. “I’m not stupid, Sherlock, sometimes I’m observant for the small details.”

Sherlock puckered his lips; if he wouldn’t want to win this looking into the eyes game, he would have stood up and hurried into his bedroom, a while ago. 

John wobbled again with his eyebrows; he didn’t break the eye contact. Oh, he could do that the whole night, it didn’t bother him, and it was always great to watch the changing eye colour – of course, a man like Sherlock, couldn’t have just normal eyes, like a normal human being, he needed to have something special.  
“Do you know what, Martin had asked for you very often during the last eight years. He would have loved to get to know you much earlier. I told you that very often, but you weren’t listening. Sometimes I greet you from him, but there you haven’t listened to me as well.” John raised his eyebrow. “I always knew, that you would like him. You don’t say it out loud, but I see it in your eyes, you like him, and I’m sure you have been really happy about his surprise visit. And I’m sure, you wouldn’t have minded, if he would have stayed longer. And you wouldn’t mind seeing him more often, even though, you are surprised that it is so easy to be with him.” John grinned.

Sherlock sighed; John’s grinning, and drumming and talking was just too annoying.   
He lost the game.  
He closed his eyes, and ruffled through his hair.  
“Sometimes, you’re unbelievably annoying, Watson. Really! Just go to bed, and leave me alone. Aren’t you tired?!” Sherlock spilled out.   
“Actually, I am tired, but it’s funnier to tease you with Martin. You didn’t want to go to the film set eight years. And now you like it. I know you like it, Sherlock. And you like especially Martin.”  
“Don’t bother me with your self entertainment, genius doctor!” He said sarcastically.   
John laughed.  
“Oh, a compliment. Thank you. And thank you for telling me that I’m right.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and jumped out of his armchair.  
“Stop teasing me!”  
John grinned up.  
“No.” He pointed with his forefinger to Sherlock. “No, because you tease me often enough, Sherlock; because you annoy me often enough, or you spoil my dates, or you drug me, or you almost kill me. And all those other things. Now, it’s my turn.” John said. “Let me tease you little, my friend. I mean it’s great, that you like him, isn’t it? You know what, you should pay him a surprise visit as well. I think he would like such a surprise.”  
Sherlock scowled down to John.  
He punched Johns upper arm.  
“Leave me alone with your stupid babbling, you’re behaving like a toddler.” Sherlock said, and then he just walked off.

Drama queen; John thought.  
“That said the right one, peewee.” John yelled out of the living room.  
Normally he didn’t say things like that to John, but it just came out.  
“Fuck off!” Sherlock yelled back.  
John laughed and replied loudly.  
“I love you, too, Sherlock.”  
The door of Sherlock’s bedroom slammed closed.   
John just shrugged his shoulders and grinned.


	9. The fake 221B Baker Street

**_-Wednesday, June/15 – 2016, late morning, Wales, Cardiff, Pinewood Studios -_ **

A few days had passed, since Martin had visited 221B Baker Street – the real 221B Baker Street.   
Now he was back on the Sherlock set, at the set of 221B Baker Street – it was exactly the same, the same everything, even the same mess. It was a bit strange, to see exactly the same flat, just with cameras, lights, sounds, cables and a lot of people.  
And Sherlock was different – it was just Robert, dressed up as Sherlock.  
Right now he was hanging on his Sherlocks armchair. They were fooling around, after they had just finished a scene – a scene, in which they had made each other laugh very often; a scene, in which they had needed to make a break, because they hadn’t been able to stop laughing.   
When Martin had calmed down, Robert had started again.  
When Robert had calmed down, Martin had started again.  
And then there had been a Cut, with the information to drink a tea and to calm down properly.  
It hadn’t been a scene, which was funny, they had just fooled around so much, that it had become funny, that they hadn’t been able to take it seriously any longer.

Martin grinned down to Robert; they knew each other since 2009, since they had done a few early rehearsals together, and they had done Civil War together – at least, they had seen each other shortly on the film set; Martin’s role hadn’t been that big.  
He gave Robert’s forehead a slap – a friendly slap.  
“Have fun, I’m back in half an hour or an hour.” Martin grinned.  
Robert grinned up to him; he punched Martin’s tummy.  
“Back off, and enjoy your break, lazy little Martin.”  
“You’re not much taller.”  
“At least, I’m a bit taller than you.”  
Martin puckered his lips jokingly. He patted Roberts shoulder.  
“See you later.”  
“See you, old bean.” Robert smiled, and patted Martin’s elbow.

Martin left the 221B Baker Street set; he took some of the sandwiches and walked to his trailer. He would rest a bit and eat his sandwich, and then he would walk back to Robert and all the others. It was just a small scene that Robert needed to do alone.  
Martin was glad, that he had a small break – so he was able to eat properly and to rest a bit and to have a nice cup of tea.  
He fumbled the key out of his trouser pocket and wanted to unlock the door, but it was already unlocked.  
He wrinkled his forehead, and shrugged his shoulders – maybe he had just forgotten to lock it this morning.

Martin opened the door and stepped in.  
And then, he almost dropped his sandwiches.   
His eyes went big, and his mouth hung open.  
He looked shocked and surprised.  
Sherlock was mooching about on the bench.   
He was sitting there, with his purple shirt, a black trouser, and black shoes.   
The coat with the blue scarf was lying on the table.

“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!” Martin said frightened.  
He was wearing his brown Watsonshoes, the Watsonjeans, and a light blue button up shirt – also one of Watson’s.  
Sherlock just smiled softly.  
“I told you, I would sneak in some day.”  
“Yeah, yeah,... but it was a surprise, anyway.” Martin said, and bowed his head. “How did you get in? Haven’t I locked the door?” Martin asked.  
“I broke in. It was locked.” Sherlock said honestly, as if it would be nothing special to break in in someones trailer. “Lock the door again.”  
“What?” Martin asked with confused looking eyes; he still held the sandwiches in his hand.  
“Lock the door again, Martin.” Sherlock smiled.

Martin blinked a few times, but then he locked the door again.   
Sherlock stood up; he came to Martin, smiled down to him. He stood in front of the door, took something out of his trouser pocket, and a few seconds later, he opened the trailer door.  
Martin blinked again a few times, looked to Sherlock, to the door, out of his trailer and to Sherlock again.  
Sherlock bowed the head.  
“Do you want me to leave? I don’t want to bother you. I’m sorry, maybe I misinterpreted your invitation to visit you here.” Sherlock said insecure; he already was about to leave the trailer.  
Martin grabbed his wrist.  
“Hey, where are you going? Don’t leave. You haven’t misinterpreted my invitation. I was just fucking surprised.” Martin said softly. 

Sherlock turned his head around. He eyed Martin, bowed his head, and made a step back into the trailer.  
Martin smiled and closed the door again; he put the key down, and patted Sherlock’s upper arm gently.  
“It’s great to see you. Come on, sit down again. Do you want a cup of tea? A Sandwich?” Martin smiled widely.  
Now Sherlock needed to blink a few times.  
“Um, thanks.” He said, and made two steps to the bench. He sat down. “This time, I’m not hungry. But I would take a cup of tea. The last one was really good.” Sherlock said with a smile.

Martin smiled and put his sandwiches down. He went to the kitchen counter, to boil water.  
“I need to disappoint you. The black tea from the last time is empty. But I have another sort of black tea – it’s great as well.”   
“A shame, but okay, then I take the other black tea.”   
“Maybe next time again.” Martin winked.  
“Oh, a new invitation.” Sherlock smiled.  
Martin nodded with a smile.

When the tea had been ready, Martin had sat down with two cups of tea.   
They enjoyed their tea, and Martin had enjoyed his two sandwiches.   
The two men didn’t talk, and they both had two different reasons. 

Sherlock didn’t know what to say – not because he wouldn’t find a topic to talk about with Martin, that would be as easy as to break in into this trailer again. The problem was, that he felt too shy, he felt too insecure – of course, he knew, that Martin was truly happy to see him. But, he had never done that for someone before, to visit someone just to see him, to just give him a pleasure, to just make his day.   
He was speechless, because of himself, and because of the unexpected pure happiness of Martin, that he paid him a visit.

And Martin didn’t talk, because he thought, that Sherlock didn’t want to talk – that he rather would remain silent for a while. And so he respected his personality and didn’t say a word as well.   
But every now and then, he beamed across the table to Sherlock. It was great to see him.  
Not that his day wasn’t good, but this visit really made his day, this visit put the cherry on the cake of this day. 

There was a knock at the door, and right after the knock, one could hear a voice.  
“Hey Martin, it’s Robert, we’re already ready with my small bit, would you be so kind to move your little cute Watsonbutt back to Baker Street in ten minutes? They want to go on.”  
“Yeah, I’m coming in a few minutes.”   
“Great. See you.”  
One could hear that Robert walked away again.

Martin turned his head back to Sherlock, who raised his eyebrow.  
“Just delete the butt bit.” Martin said with slightly flushed cheeks. “Are you coming with me, Sherlock?”  
“Oh, no. No, I don’t think so.”  
“Oh come on, please, Sherlock.”  
“It’s strange to see that.” Sherlock admitted.  
“I’m sure, you’ve seen things, that I would find more creepy and strange. Please; Sherlock, come on. For me.” Martin smiled.  
Sherlock sighed.  
“Why am I doing what you’re saying?” Sherlock said and stood up.  
“Because I’m such a likeable person, and you like me and you’re polite, and want to do me a favour, so that I am not sad.”   
“Just let’s go, and stop deducing me.”  
Martin grinned, and stood up as well.  
“Oh, I was right; I really was right?” Martin said happily and triumphantly.

Sherlock went outdoors with Martin, who locked the door with a grin.   
Sherlock took the key, to take care of it. He looked down to Martin.  
“Yes.” He answered Martin briefly, and then he walked towards the Studio without waiting for Martin.  
Martin grinned softly, and followed him.   
And when he reached Sherlock, he patted his back softly.


	10. Starving

**_\- Wednesday, June/15 – 2016, Wales, Cardiff –_ **

Sherlock was still on the 221B Baker Street set. He was standing with Mark and Steven and some other people behind the monitors, behind the camera. And they all had been excited to see him again – especially Robert really liked it to see him. But the person, who liked it the most, was definitely Martin. 

Sherlock just stood there with his too tight purple shirt, his black suit trousers and his black shoes. He had crossed his arms. It was the first time that he watched anything from this series, properly. He had watched all series and films of Martin, all of them, despite BBC Sherlock. It still was a bit strange, and the last time he had been on the Sherlock set, he hadn’t seen much, because he had been distracted with all these welcoming small talks.   
This time he could watch the scene between himself and John Watson properly.

The first minutes, he had been pretty amazed by all the small and real details – and it wasn’t that easy to get an amazed Sherlock Holmes.   
But it really was amazing, it just looked like his flat, despite the fact, that it was all a bit separated – but the rooms looked like his rooms at home. And at home weren’t so many people, which was really good. He wouldn’t bear it ten minutes. He really wouldn't be able to do this job; he was good at acting too, he had acted a lot of times, during his mad undercover things, but he wouldn't be able to bear all these people. He asked himself, how all these actors and actresses were able to bear it a whole day, a whole week, a few months. 

He watched the scene, and there was often a Cut and an Action, and there was often a lot of talking between the Cuts and Actions, and there were a lot of Make Up things, while they were talking between all these Cuts and Actions.   
He watched Martin and Robert, and after a while, it got less strange, to see someone, who pretended to be him. But in a way it was still weird, and he could feel a bit of an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach – it was like, someone showed him how he was, how he is, how he acted and behaved with people – and he couldn’t help it, but he felt a bit sick about himself.  
Did he talk with John like that?  
Was he really talking with him, that arrogant, sometimes?  
Was he really that egotistical, and rude to John?  
Did he really hurt John with his words and behavior sometimes?  
Was he really that annoying when he was sulking?

He bowed his head.  
Next to him, the director stopped the scene again, because Martin stuttered a bit.  
“Cut!”  
Martin turned his head around, he was standing by the chimney.  
“I was just acting! Can I just do my lines now.” Martin bowed his head.  
“Sorry. It was acted too good.” Benjamin grinned apologetically.  
Robert grinned in Sherlock’s armchair.  
“In contrary to the normal acting, Martin.” Robert laughed. “It’s all shitty, Martin. Just now, now it was the first time you acted really great. That’s what he had wanted to say.” He still laughed, and rearranged his sitting position in the armchair. He folded his hands again.  
Martin pulled a face, but he was grinning with his eyes.  
The others behind the camera laughed.  
“Oh great, someone just said it, finally.” Mark grinned.  
“Fuck off, Gatiss!” Martin said seriously, but the corner of his lips twitched.  
Mark just grinned and sipped at his tea.  
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Benjamin said with a grin.  
“I know how you meant it, Benjamin. Can I just do my lines, already?” Martin grinned, and get into position again.

And before Benjamin called Action again, Martin gave Sherlock a soft smile.  
And Sherlock needed to smile back. He liked to watch Martin, and he liked it, that he was a person, who was just honest, who just said, what he was thinking.  
And he did a really good job; he played his doctor quite well, he almost got the impression, that Martin in fact was his doctor and flatmate and best friend. He did it very well.   
Even though it was scary to watch his own behavior, which seemed to be really not good, which made him feel sick; nevertheless, Robert did a good job as well.  
Maybe he should watch all the episodes and the special; he was sure it was good, but this sick feeling about himself was uncomfortable, and probably he would look into a mirror the whole time, when he would watch this series, which was named after him.  
And probably he would feel even more uncomfortable about himself after watching all these episodes and the special – and he didn’t really want that.

He waited until they called it a day.  
And he waited for Martin, who changed into his casual wear.  
Martin smiled, when he came out of his trailer again.  
“Oh, you’re still here.” Martin beamed.  
“I wouldn’t have gone without saying goodbye.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Oh, one never knows.” Martin winked softly.  
Sherlock shook his head slightly. He bowed his head.  
“Are you free this evening? We could go out for some dinner, before my train leaves, if you’ve time, and wouldn’t mind.” Sherlock asked, and babbled.  
Martin smiled.  
“I’m starving!” He beamed. “I would love to go for some food with you.”

 

They walked directly to an Italian restaurant. Sherlock hadn’t so much time, the last train to London would leave shortly before 10 o’clock, and he didn’t want to sleep in Cardiff.  
The first intend to come here had been that he had wanted to see Martin, but another small reason had been that there hadn’t been a case or client – but maybe tomorrow, maybe Lestrade would text or a client would come over, and then Sherlock wanted to be available. 

For a few minutes now, they were sitting at a table, reading the menu cards.  
Martin read just quickly; he knew the restaurant quite well.  
Sherlocks menu card lay on the table, already closed.  
Martin smiled to him.  
“What have you picked?”  
“Nothing. I’m not hungry.”  
“Oh, come on Sherlock. It’s really tasty, the pizza and pasta and the fish.”  
“No, Martin. Really, it’s too much.” Sherlock said.  
“Then you could eat a salad, they are great.” Martin tried it.  
“Too much.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“A small salad?” Martin bowed his head.  
Sherlock just looked at him.  
“One small pizza bun?” Martin asked softly.  
Sherlock sighed.  
“Why I have to eat something?”  
“Because we’re in a restaurant, Sherlock. I mean, I’m eating something, so you’re allowed to eat nothing,... but Sherlock, I don’t want to sit here and eat alone, while you’re watching me. Could you please order something small or something you just like? You don’t have to eat all of it, I can help in the end, if it’s something without meat. It’s just nicer to eat together, than alone.” Martin said gently and truthfully.  
Sherlock had listened; he looked at Martin, and then to the menu card. His forefinger caressed across the cover of the card.  
“Fine. Then I took some of the salads.”  
He raised his head again, and looked into a beaming and soft looking face.  
“Thank you, Sherlock.”

They ordered Sherlocks salad and Martins fish. And Martin had managed it, to convince Sherlock to drink one glass of red wine with him.   
The red wine came after a few moments, and when the waiter was gone again, they raised their glasses.  
“Thanks for visiting me, Sherlock. And thanks for the lovely dinner with you.” Martin smiled.  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Um, my pleasure.” Sherlock said, and smiled – he was still overwhelmed by the fact, that Martin was this happy to see him, that it seemed to mean really much to him – his little visit.  
They clinked glasses and took a sip.

Martin put his glass down onto the table.  
He bowed his head and looked to Sherlock.  
“How was it to watch yourself?” Martin asked nicely.  
Sherlock twirled his glass; he watched his wine.  
“Hmh, weird. I don’t know. Um, it was strange. I mean, it was great,... great to see you two doing this. It was really good. You’re playing John really good, it’s like you would be him, even though you’re not like him in real life. It’s amazing to see this.” Sherlock mumbled to his wine.  
“Um, wow, thanks Sherlock. I think, I couldn’t get a better and bigger compliment. Thank you.” Martin smiled, and watched Sherlock, who watched his wine. “So, then, what was strange to watch? Yourself? Seeing Robert playing you?” Martin asked.  
“Yeah. It’s like you see yourself. Um, I mean he’s playing me, like John has described me,... and, I think, Robert is a good actor, the poses and all that, I mean, that’s me. But, well, it made me feel sick in a way, to see me like that. I asked myself if I’m really that arrogant and rude an selfish to John; if I really hurt his feelings that much sometimes with my behavior. You know what I mean?” Sherlock still talked with his wine.

Martin smiled and watched him. He nudged Sherlock’s hand on the wine glass with his finger.  
Sherlock raised his head surprisingly.  
Martin smiled.  
“I know, I’m not the tallest guy on planet earth, but I’m not that small, that I can take a bath in a glass of red wine.” Martin smiled. “I’m sitting right here.” Martin winked softly.  
Sherlock looked at him with flushed cheeks.  
“Sorry.” He mumbled.  
Martin just nodded with a soft smile.  
“To the things you told me,... well, I’m not John, Sherlock. I’m not living with you, I’m not working with you. I can’t tell you if you’re like that with John, but it seemed to be John’s impression of you, otherwise, he wouldn’t have written all that down, or wouldn’t have told us all this. I think you need to ask John, if you want to know that. He’s your best friend, and I think, he will answer that properly and honestly. Then it’s up to you, to change something when you want to change something, because you’re feeling sick about yourself.” Martin said softly.  
Sherlock looked at him; he didn’t know what to say right now. In a way Martin was right; in a way he didn’t want to hear that; in a way he didn’t want to hear the truth from John; in a way he didn’t want to change; and in a way he wanted it.

Martin smiled.  
“You’re out of words. I am not. So, I will say something. When we began with this series, I thought, I could never be friends with you. Jesus, I would have been so often grumpy with you, I would have yelled so often, I would have told you to Fuck off a hundred times a day, even though it really amazed me what you’re able to do – your deductions and all that. Nevertheless, I really wanted to get to know you, unfortunately it took us a few years.” Martin smiled, and looked into Sherlocks serious face. “And now, I’m sitting here with you, and I really like it. And, well, I would say, you’re a friend. When you’re with me, then it’s different, from what I have expected. You’re nice, you’re funny, you're polite; it’s great to talk with you, and it’s very easy to do that. I like it to text with you - even though I'm often too busy, and I like it to see you, and I’m fucking happy about your visit. You really made my day with that. It’s a lovely gesture. For me, you’re not really the Sherlock, Robert plays. But maybe I’m an exception for you.” Martin smiled.

Sherlock looked stunned at Martin.  
Jesus, he was so right, he was absolutely an exception for him.   
Sherlock knew, Martin knew the sulking and rude side of him, through Mycroft, and Mrs. Hudson and John - and he had seen it a bit during their first meeting, during their train ride and during their pizza eating - but Martin couldn’t really react to this, because Sherlock was different, when Martin was around. It seemed that Martin calmed him down really much, it seemed like he was able to cheer him up immediately – much more than John, and John already was an exception on a high level – Martin seemed to be too much of an exception, that he doesn’t fit into the scale any longer. And the reason for that was, that he was able to give his whole body a warm feeling and tingling.

“You don’t need to say something. I just want that you know, that I like you. And when you feel uncomfortable with yourself, because of your behavior, then you need to talk with people, who are able to tell you something about that. I can’t do that. I know a really likeable Sherlock, who’s slightly rude and arrogant, which I am as well – and so I really like your slightly rude behavior and your sass.” Martin smiled, and patted his wrist.  
Sherlock looked down at Martins hand and back to Martin again.   
“You’re right. I don’t know what to say. But, well. Thank you for the things you said about me. I’m really not good with these things. I’m very insecure with that,... and with myself as well, when it comes to things like that, when it’s not about knowledge.” Sherlock admitted.   
Martin smiled softly.  
“My pleasure.” He winked. “Do you want to change the topic?”  
Sherlock nodded.  
“If this is okay for you?”  
“Of course.” Martin smiled.  
Sherlock smiled a bit more.

 

After half an hour they had gotten their ordered food.  
They had eaten, and Martin had helped Sherlock with the salad. He really hadn’t eat much, but at least half of the big salad plate and a small pizza bun was in his stomach now.  
Martin had ordered a second glass of wine, and Sherlock had ordered a glass of water.

Martin had enjoyed the dinner, and he had enjoyed the talking with Sherlock. For him it was okay, that they had broken up the conversation about Sherlock, feeling bad about his own behavior – Sherlock wasn’t ready to talk about it, so it was okay they didn’t talk about it.   
But it was absolutely amazing, how easy Sherlock could talk, when it came to things he liked or general knowledge, he had even deduced a couple, because Martin had asked for it. And Martin had been stunned and amazed. And he had tried it with another couple, but he had failed, not massively, but, just the half of his babbling had been true – if one trusts Sherlock’s deduction skills.   
He was such a secure man with his hobbies and his knowledge, but when it came to social things he was quite the opposite and he totally insecure with himself.

Sherlock had liked the evening as well. And the salad had been good and tasty, but he really hadn’t been able to eat more. And even a half plate of salad and vegetables and a pizza bun was a big meal for him. It was the same as if Mycroft would eat two whole cakes. Okay, probably, Mycroft would be able to do that. Nevertheless, half a plate of salad with vegetables and a pizza bun was for him, like a five-course-menu. It was quite much.   
But Martin had helped him with the other half.  
And he had felt comfortable with Martin again, much more than comfortable.   
He should really stop, to watch every night a movie of Martin, or a YouTube video of Martin; he already had a massive crush on him.   
It wouldn’t be good, when it got more than a crush. This couldn’t be good. It was wrong, wasn’t it?

Sherlock had paid at the end of the evening.  
He had wanted to invite Martin, as a Thank You for the pizza and the surprise visit a few days ago.  
And Martin had brought him to the train station in Cardiff, and he had waited until the train had set off. T  
hey had raised their hands for a second goodbye.  
Sherlock had looked out of the window to Martin.  
Martin had stood on the platform.


	11. A long night

**_\- Saturday, June/25 – 2016, late evening, London, 221B Baker Street -_ **

John was out with Greg, for a movie and a few drinks afterwards – and probably he would come home very drunk, as always when he was out with Greg.  
Okay, until now, John was still at home, but he was getting ready for his evening with Greg.  
When John left the room, Sherlock took his mobile phone and typed a message for Martin – without thinking twice about it.

**-** _Do you want to come over for a few drinks, or are you busy tonight?_ **-**

He just needed to wait a few seconds, Martin had been online.

******_\- Hey, I’m not busy – well now I am. I’m appointed with a guy called Sherlock Holmes, he invited me for a few drinks. I need to call a cab now. :-). -_ ** ** **

Sherlock grinned widely and jumped happily through the living room, as would Lestrade have texted him a triple murder. He grinned and jumped, until John came downstairs again – then, Sherlock just dropped onto the leather sofa, laid his fingertips against each other and pretended to be in his mind palace.

“Sherlock... ” John said. “Sherlock! Jesus Sherlock... ” John said repeatedly.  
Jesus, that was annoying – couldn’t he just leave the flat; he already had told him, that he would go out with Lestrade, it was obvious, that he would leave after changing and getting ready.  
He heard footsteps.  
John came closer.  
In a second, he would punch somewhere, as long as he would need to get him out of his mind palace, and then he would babble something about his mind palace and that he would leave now.  
Sherlock felt John’s punching hand against his chest.  
He would make it easy for John.  
He opened his eyes immediately.

John looked at him.  
“Jesus, why can’t you react when someone’s shouting your name, while you’re in your mind palace. I want to say that I’m leaving now.” He said a bit grumpy.  
“I focus on the important things, Jawn. It’s obvious, that you leave the flat after getting ready, it’s late and you’re appointed with Gavin. I haven’t forgotten that.” Sherlock said dryly.  
“Nice people say goodbye to their flatmates when they leave the flat. And it’s Greg, Jesus Christ!”  
“I also say goodbye to you!” Sherlock said, and looked into John’s face, who had raised an eyebrow. “Mostly.” Sherlock stated, and John raised his eyebrow higher. “Sometimes.” Sherlock grumbled. And John raised his second eyebrow. “Fine! Pretty much never!” Sherlock hissed.  
John’s eyebrows sank down.  
“Good, that described it pretty good. I’m off now. See you later.” John said with a pleased voice.  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Bye, have fun with,... Gavin.” He teased.  
John rolled his eyes. He didn’t say a word and just left.

Sherlock waited a moment until he got up. He walked across the coffee table, to the window and looked out – he watched John, who walked to the tube.  
And then he ran his hand through his black curls, and let his gaze flicker through the flat and over his body.  
Jesus, he needed to change, and to clean up a bit.

And in the next half an hour and cleaned the table in the living room and the table in the kitchen and the sofa – well, he just threw his clothes into his bedroom; he just put the eyeballs and hands back into the fridge, and he just stapled the books and papers new, a bit more like a proper tower, and not like one, who almost keeled over.  
But he dressed up properly – a white shirt, and a dark blue suit pants, and dark socks.

When he heard the doorbell 15 minutes later, he got nervous.   
Why had he invited someone into his flat?  
Why had he invited someone, he had a crush on, into his flat?  
Why the hell had he a crush?  
And why for god’s sake, had he the feeling, that it was much more than a crush?

He closed his eyes for a moment.  
He shouldn't think about that now. It would make him more nervous, all the feelings would make him more nervous, feelings he hadn’t felt properly beforehand.  
He walked downstairs – Mrs. Hudson was visiting a friend in Brighton.

Sherlock took a deep breath.  
It’s just Martin. It’s just Martin, just Martin, just the guy you have a crush on, just the guy you have more than just a crush on – his head was babbling.  
He bit his lip.  
Just Martin; he likes you, he’s funny and sassy and cheeky, he’s a grumpy swearing gentleman, who looks too cute and too hot at the same moment, which normally isn't possible; despite the fact your name is: Martin Freeman – his mind babbled.  
He ran his hand through his hair, and his mind wanted to start again, but stopped because of the doorbell, which rang again.

Sherlock blinked a few times and opened the door.  
Martin stood in front of it. And he beamed happily.  
Sherlock smiled softly, and then he just felt Martins arms around his body.  
This man just hugged him tightly.  
Sherlock was shocked, it didn’t happen often, that someone hugged him.  
He hung in Martins arms, and after a few moments, he hugged him back – insecure and clumsy.

Martin broke apart; he still beamed, but looked a bit insecure as well.  
“Um,... too much?” He rubbed his neck.  
“Um,... a bit.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“Well,... well, um,... now it’s too late.” Martin mumbled, and bit his lip. “Sorry,... I was a bit too excited.“ He apologised.  
“Um, yeah, I could feel it. Um, sorry as well,... I was a bit too shocked, and not prepared for such a greeting.” Sherlock mumbled, and stepped aside. “Come in,... it’s fine with the hug,... I just didn’t expect it.”  
Martin nodded with a soft smile, and came in.

They both walked upstairs.  
“Can I take off my shoes?” Martin asked.  
Sherlock nodded and smiled.  
“You can,... so what do you want to drink?”  
Martin slipped out of his shoes and followed Sherlock, with black socks and dark jeans and a checkered shirt.  
“Whiskey, or wine, or a beer, if you have.”  
“There’s no beer, but red wine. Oh no,... um, we can’t drink the wine. I use him for an experiment, the wine is drugged and well, I'm using him for something else. But we’ve Whiskey.” Sherlock said.  
Martin grinned.  
“And you can promise me, that the Whiskey isn’t drugged or poisoned?”  
“Yeah, it’s a new bottle, John had bought it this morning. It’s just Whiskey.” Sherlock smiled softly, with a little grin.  
“It’s a bit creepy, now that I know, that the wine is poisoned.” Martin grinned.  
Sherlock grinned.  
“Just trust me.”  
Martin looked at him; he bowed his head, and smiled.  
“I do. I really do. I trust you Sherlock, I hope you didn’t play with that.”  
Sherlock swallowed – he loved Martins honesty, but it always overwhelmed him, mostly in a good way. Martin trusted him, and Martin didn’t want to get disappointed, because Martin truly liked him. This thought and deduction, let him smile.  
“I won’t play with your trust.” Sherlock said softly and honestly.

Martin bowed his head and smiled.  
And Sherlock pointed with his gentle smile to John’s armchair.  
“Just sit down, Martin.”  
“Thanks, Sherlock.” Martin said.  
Martin went to the armchair and sat down, while Sherlock was fetching up the Whiskey and two glasses. He poured the Whiskey into the glasses and handed Martin one of them.  
“Thank you.” Martin said again.  
“You’re welcome.” Sherlock smiled, and sat down with his glass, in his armchair.  
They raised their glasses and sipped at it.

“Do you know Twitter and Tumblr and all these social media platforms?” Martin asked.  
“I know them, but I don’t use them. And John just uses his blog. Why did you ask?” Sherlock asked curiously.  
“Some people saw us together, you and me, during our dinner and at the central station in Cardiff. They took pictures.” Martin said. “And now they drawing pictures and writing stories about us.” Martin grinned.  
“What? Why are they drawing pictures? And why should they write stories about us?” Sherlock asked with a confused voice.  
“Did John never mentioned Johnlock?” Martin grinned.  
“What’s Johnlock? Maybe he did, I don’t listen every time, or I was in my mind palace.”  
“Well, Johnlock is the ship name of John and Sherlock - the ship name for a relationship.” Martin smirked. Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “I know, I know, you two are just friends,... they want to see Robert and me, as you and John, kissing and fucking... ” Martin said, and Sherlock’s eyes went big. “That’s what they draw and write. You know, um,... it’s a bit gay,... BBC Sherlock.”  
“That’s insane! Why are people doing this!?” Sherlock asked with big eyes. “I know. Mycroft is very amused by that, because he’s gay, and because he wants to have that with Lestrade.”  
Martin chuckled.  
“Because they like it Sherlock, they like this fantasy.” He grinned. “Really? I guess, you have deduced that.” Sherlock nodded. “Well, there are also smutty drawings and stories about Mark and Rupert, as your brother and Lestrade, it’s called Mystrade.”  
“God, please stop that! I don’t want to imagine theses pictures of my brother and Lestrade, even though it’s just Mark and Rupert. That’s creepy and spooky and disgusting.” Sherlock said disgustedly, and shivered.

Martin laughed softly.  
Sherlock ruffled through his hair and gulped the Whiskey down.  
“Okay, what’s that with us?” Sherlock asked bravely.  
“It’s the same. It’s called Freelock. I’m also not on social media platforms, Amanda showed it to me. They all say we look really cute together, and now they are drawing smutty and cute pictures of you and me, and they write stories, where we’re kissing and well,... fucking.” Martin said.  
“I’m not cute! They just do that because of two pictures of us? That’s weird, Martin! Isn’t it?”  
“Oh, you are cute!” Martin winked charmingly. “And well, it’s nothing that’s new for me. I’ve seen a lot of these pictures.”  
“Why have you told me that, you know I’m curious, I will look for these pictures and stories, now! And then I will see all these creepy porn things.” Sherlock said with red cheeks.  
Martin grinned.  
“I wanted to share this with you. I mean it is about us, darling.” Martin teased and grinned.  
“I’m not saying Thank you for that!” Sherlock said.

Sherlock took the Whiskey, poured the golden liquid into his empty glass.  
He looked to Martin again; he set the glass on his lips and wanted to gulp it down – just because of these creepy news, and especially because of that lovely pet name from Martin for him – darling.  
But Martin winked charmingly, kissed into the air, winked again lewdly.  
They both needed to laugh, and Sherlock spilled out the Whiskey, while he was laughing really hard.  
And that made Martin laugh even harder.

Martin slapped his thigh while he was laughing, and with the other hand, he held his little tummy.  
“God, that was great.”, Martin still laughed. “That was such a nice shirt, you ruined it.”  
“It’s your fault!” Sherlock laughed, put the glass down, rubbed his hand dry at his shirt and wiped across his wet mouth.  
“I just flirted with you.” Martin grinned.  
“No! You teased me.” Sherlock grinned.  
“Good deduction, Mr. Holmes.” Martin grinned. “Okay, Sherlock, now you’re allowed to tell or show me something creepy as well.”

Sherlock grinned evilly. He stood up.  
“Great. Get up. I show you my fridge.” Sherlock grinned.  
“Oh no. Come on, Sherlock. Please... “ Martin said, but got up.  
“It was your deal.” Sherlock grinned. He shoved Martin into the kitchen.  
Martin sighed and stopped in front of the fridge.

Sherlock rubbed his hands.  
Oh great, there were a few nice things in it; Sherlock thought cheekily.  
He stood behind Martin.  
“You need to protect me.” Martin flirted.  
Sherlock smiled; he stepped a bit closer and laid his hands in front of Martins eyes. His chest and stomach touched Martin’s back.  
He was able to flirt, too.  
Martin swallowed, not that he didn’t like it, but he hadn’t expected such a move from Sherlock. He bit his lips – Sherlock’s hands felt nice.  
“Open the door, Martin.” Sherlock smiled, and he could feel, that Martin pressed his eyes close.  
Martin opened the door of the fridge.

Sherlock moved his fingers, so that Martin would be able to peek through them.  
Martin opened his eyes. And shortly after that, he pressed them close again, and he put his hands on Sherlock’s hands.  
He hadn’t seen much, but it had been enough.  
Sherlock chuckled softly.  
“Close that bloody fridge, Sherlock!” Martin said.  
“I can’t, you’re grabbing my hands!” Sherlock chuckled.  
He hoped that Martin wouldn’t let go.

Martin let his hands on Sherlock’s, grabbed his hands properly – held his hands; his warm and slender, filigree hands. The body behind him was warm and slender as well – and the body was comfortable and pleasant.

Sherlock didn’t move; he enjoyed Martin’s warm and small hands, and his warm and small body – which was very comfortable and pleasant.

Martin pinched his eyes together; he lowered their hands, laid them against his chest – pressed them against his chest.   
And he slowly opened one eye.  
“Jesus! It’s a bloody head. A head! And fucking eyeballs,... in a very ugly liquid! And,... and hands,... and Jesus, they are lying in that fucking drugged red wine.” Martin said, and pinched his eyes together after a moment.  
Sherlock grinned softly; he freed one hand, and pushed the door close. He rubbed across Martin’s upper arm, who still pressed their entwined fingers against his chest.  
“You can open your eyes, Martin.”  
“Please never cook for me.” Martin said, and shivered.  
Sherlock grinned softly.  
“I thought you trusted me.”  
“I do, but not your fridge. And probably the ingredients would be lying next to these things.”  
Sherlock grinned again, and rubbed Martin’s upper arm again.

Martin let slowly go Sherlock’s hand.  
“I think, these were enough creepy things tonight.” He said softly, and turned around. He looked up to Sherlock, and slowly down to the Whiskey drops on Sherlock’s button up shirt. He raised a finger; he couldn’t help it, but he just caressed across one of these wet spots on Sherlock’s chest. “How about you’re showing me something with your violin.” He said, and looked up again. And he looked into a flushed face. “I would love to hear you play.” Martin bowed his head.

Sherlock looked down to him, with his tomato red cheeks.  
He nodded softly.  
“I... I can do that for you.”  
Martin smiled.  
“Great, that’s lovely. Thank you, Sherlock.”  
“My pleasure.” Sherlock smiled shyly.  
Martin winked; he let his hand sink, and then he walked back to the living room.

Sherlock followed him.  
And then he was able to impress Martin very much with his violin, who just sat in John’s armchair and was obviously enjoying the music very much.  
He asked for more, every time Sherlock stopped playing.  
And Sherlock was willing to play for Martin over and over again.


	12. Bored!

**\- Tuesday, July/5 – 2016, early evening, Wales, on location -**

Martin was sitting in his trailer.  
He looked into his teacup, watched the tea doing nothing. The caramel coloured liquid, which was floating in the teacup was just doing nothing.  
Just like him.  
He sighed.  
A break, a long one, 2 hours – and he had just survived half an hour of that break, yet.  
He was bored of himself. He was totally bored, and when he was totally bored, everything was shitty.  
Eating was shitty, talking with others was shitty, watching others working was shitty, reading was shitty, drinking tea was shitty, listen to music was shitty, learning text was shitty.  
It didn’t happen often that he was really bored, but when he was, then he annoyed himself, with his own boredom.

He nudged the teacup, so that the tea was moving a bit – but the caramel liquid didn’t become more interesting, even though it was moving now.  
He nudged it again – and the tea swashed dangerously near to the rim of the cup.  
That was more exciting.  
He did it again; he nudged the teacup, and this time not just the tea swashed dangerously, also the cup was swaying dangerously.  
Oh, this was really exciting – but he stopped it. He wasn’t in the mood to clean up the table, because of a keeled over teacup.  
Martin sighed again.  
He looked up, and looked through his trailer.  
But instead of doing anything, he just turned around on the bench, and laid down.  
His head, his upper body, his butt, and a bit of his legs were lying on the bench – the feet were dangling in midair.  
He grabbed his phone, which was lying on the table.

Sherlock!  
He was bored very often; he would have for sure an idea what to do.  
He opened his messagebox and typed something for Sherlock.

\----------------------------------------

**_Bored! M.F._ **

_Are you making fun of me?_

**_Not really, I’m really bored, and I wanted to send a Sherlock Holmes message in my lifetime – now I can delete it from my Life-To-Do-List._ **

**_Why are you texting back that quickly? Have you stared at your phone?_ **

_Such things are on your Life-To-Do-List, I thought your life wouldn’t be that boring. I haven’t stared at my phone, I just have picked it up – coincidence. I’m right back from a very dull case – waste of time. I’ve wasted the whole day for that dull thing._

**_My life isn’t boring, I wish it would be boring sometimes. And the man named Sherlock Holmes isn’t boring, too, and so he had stood on my To-Do-List. Have you solved the case, or have you just driven back?_ **

_I think that was a compliment, so I say Thank You, Martin. I’ve solved it – sometimes Lestrade is as dull as Anderson. He let me travel through half England for a stupid murder, which took me one look to solve it. He had texted me such an adventurous story, and then it turned out that it wasn’t a murder. Just suicide. He had looked really embarrassed – the only thing, that had made this trip worthwhile._

**_My pleasure, Sherlock. Not all are as clever as you’re, genius. Have you been polite? ;-) I’ve the feeling you haven’t._ **

_You’re right, I’ve been rude. John was grumpy the whole ride back. Now he’s sitting very grumpily in his armchair – he’s playing the game: I will not talk to you, until I will ask you, what you would love to eat for supper. I have said sorry, but he had ignored it. It seemed that I’ve been really rude and all that, normally he yelled after my apologise, and then all is good again._

**_Let him be grumpy with you, and then you can apologise later again, or you do something nice for him. He likes to go to Angelo’s with you. ;-). It’s not an order, it’s just an advice from a friend, Sherlock._ **

_I will think about that advice of my... friend. Great to have a second one._

\----------------------------------------  
Martin smiled at the last message.  
It was always nice to hear or read something from Sherlock like this.  
He knew it wasn’t easy for him to say such things or to write them down – and even his own flirting had made him insecure in a way, even though, he had tried the be confident.  
And so it was even more lovely to be a person, who was able to calm down Sherlock that much; to be a person, Sherlock seemed to trust very much; to be a person, Sherlock liked and was able to show and to say and to write it down.

\----------------------------------------

**_Could my friend, (which I really like, by the way) please help me with my boredom? What are you doing, when you’re bored?_ **

_I think I’m not really helpful for that. I’m sulking or being in my mind palace, or I do things who are a bit not good, like shooting walls, sneaking around, spoiling experiments, annoying my brother, thinking about how to murder Anderson..._

**_That’s really not helpful, Sherlock. :-D. But your texts are helpful, please don’t go, please don’t leave me alone. It’s tremendously boring without you._ **

_I can’t help anybody ;-). And I won’t leave you alone, now where you have time for me, I can complain about a thing you did, you naughty devil._

**_Oh Jesus. Now I get a good telling-off. What have I done?_ **

_You have told me about these drawings and those stories about us! This Freelock thing! Of course I googled it, because I was curious – and I have seen these pictures, and I have read those stories. Those smutty stories,... I have dreamt about it!_

**_:-D Wet dreams?_ **

_Shut up, Freeman._

**_:-D Sherlock, calm down. It’s just a story. And it’s often much better than real porn. Not that I have read that much, but the few I have read through had been written quite well. And the drawings were good, too. I mean in context of the art._ **

_Of course you meant that, Martin ;-). Stop talking about it now. I will never get this out of my mind palace any more. Never._

\----------------------------------------  
Martin laughed.  
He asked himself, if Shelock was flattered by those stories and these drawings, if he finds it disgusting or arousing.  
He didn’t dare to ask it, and probably Sherlock would just ignore this question.  
And he was happy that Sherlock wanted to stop talking about it, so Sherlock wouldn’t ask if he finds it arousing.  
To be honest, in a way he found it arousing.

Sherlock was a handsome and beautiful man, and the thought to fuck him, or to get fucked by him weren’t disgusting, it was quite the opposite – it was something he would get turned on really much, if he would think more about it, or if he would read more of those stories or if he would look at more of these pictures.  
If he would be really honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind to have sex with him – even though, he wasn’t someone for a one night stand. But he wasn’t honest with himself; he rather put it deep down into his subconscious mind – it scared him a bit and sometimes a bit more, that he fancied a person whose best friend is the character he plays in BBC Sherlock; it scared him, that there was a little (maybe huge) crush - (maybe a lovingness).

\----------------------------------------

**_You’re not allowed to complain, Sherlock. You dreamt about us and those stories and theses pictures, that’s not that bad like dreaming from a chopped head and other human body parts in a fridge._ **

_We could exchange dreams, if you rather want to dream smutty things, Martin. I wouldn’t mind to dream of chopped body parts._

**_Let’s change the subject, Mr. Strange ;-). (I meant that in a nice way, I’m smiling, you can’t see it, but I wrote it with a smile.)_ **

_You can be lucky that I trust you, otherwise I would sulk now, and never talk to you again, at least not nicely, Mr. Baggins._

**_Mr. Baggins is on vacation. You’re talking with Dr. Watson, :-D... that’s confusing. Have you watched it now? Your series? Or are you still afraid, it could make you feel uncomfortable, Sherlock?_ **

_Yes, it’s confusing, because John’s still sitting in his armchair. And no, I haven’t watched it. And yes, you’re right. I admit it, I’m still afraid, that I will feel sad and bad and sick and uncomfortable after it. I’m sure Robert and you, and all the others and the crew had done a good job. But it scares me to see myself like this, to see how I am to other people._

**_You could watch it with someone, then there’s someone to comfort you, Sherlock._ **

_Any advice with whom I could watch it?  
_

**_I don't know, Sherlock. A person you like, and trust, and feel comfortable with. A person, you can talk with, without being ashamed. A person, with whom you would feel good, if he or her would sit next to you, and if he or her would comfort you. You know what I mean? You're not feeling comfortable with watching it, to be honest, it scares you. So you should pick someone, who can compensate that, and can amke you feel good again, when you feel bad and sick and all that._ **

_If I would ask you if you would watch it with me, Martin, would you say yes?_

**_If you would ask me, I would say yes.. If you would like to watch it, and you feel a bit more comfortable with the thought of watching it, then you could ask me properly, if we could watch it together. ;-) Just ask me when you’re ready, and then I will say yes, and then I will try to find enough time, to watch it with you properly and to comfort you properly, if you need it, Sherlock. I promise._ **

\----------------------------------------  
He got a long Thank You text from Sherlock – and it lets him smile.  
And Sherlock’s texting,let him forget his boredom – Jesus, he was a fabulous distraction, a great babbler (when he wanted to be), and a lovely listener (also just when he wanted to be but now, he seemed to wanted it.).

Sherlock had pulled him out of his boredom very easily, and even though he had been in a very good mood during writing, he got a bit grumpy when his break was over – this means leaving Sherlock.

 

At the beginning of the break he had been grumpy because of the break, and his boredom, and himself.  
Now at the end of the break, he was a bit grumpy about the “short” break, and with the others, who had called him back to work.


	13. Should it be like that

**-Saturday, July/23 - 2016, UK, England -**

 

Martin dropped his phone down; it fell into the soft green grass, and Martin sat down onto the sun lounger, which was standing in the garden.  
He leaned back, crosses his legs, rearranged his sunglasses, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sun, which was shining from the cloudless sky in Potters Bar.  
It was a nice and warm day, and on top of that, he had a day off, which was great, because he was a bit exhausted. Not that he was just working on BBC Sherlock at the moment, he also had a lot of appointments on the weekends, or at least on Saturday – but on Sunday, he always needed to go back to Cardiff.  
In between BBC Sherlock and Cargo, he would have almost two weeks off, and he could hardly wait for it, even though he needed to prepare a bit for the role – but he could relax at home, maybe here in the garden – learning his text.

His thoughts drifted off to Sherlock, not to BBC Sherlock, not to Robert Sherlock Downey Jr., they drifted off to the real Sherlock – to his friend Sherlock Holmes.  
He bit his lower lip.  
These thoughts about Sherlock became more and more, and more deeply and more intense.  
He wasn’t quite sure if this was good, if this was right, if it should be like that.  
Thinking about a friend wasn’t strange or wrong – he thought really often about Amanda and Simon and all his other friends, but the thoughts he had about them, were just thoughts which one had about a friend.  
It was something else with Sherlock.  
It was something else when he was thinking about him – too much, too deep, too intense, too romantic.  
It was something else when he was with Sherlock – too long hand shakes or too long hugs, too many charming smiles and winks and words, too long eye contact.

Everything was different with Sherlock.  
Normally he fancied a different kind of man – but Sherlock was an exception for him, and he thought too often, that he was bloody gorgeous and beautiful and hot.  
Nothing was normal with him.  
It wasn’t bad – but it scared him a bit.

It wasn’t Sherlock’s personality that scared him, even though he could be really unsocial and rude and arrogant and egoistic and a show-off – he could also be a really smart and charming man, who was able to flirt really good and to become shy because of it, which was cute; he was able to be really funny and chatty; he was able to be polite and to be attentive – at least when Sherlock had been with him.  
The mixture was really nice.  
To be honest the mixture was bloody awesome.  
It was a thing that pulled him to Sherlock like a magnet.  
It was the X factor.

The thing that scared him a bit was, that he was playing Sherlock’s best friend; that he was playing in a series, which showed Sherlock’s life. He used the name Sherlock so often during work, and then he saw Robert. And when he was in private than Sherlock just looked like, well, like Sherlock.  
It was confusing.

He didn’t know if it was good to fell in love with him.  
Foolishly, he wasn’t far away from it – he wasn’t that far away from falling madly in love with William Sherlock Scott Holmes.  
It already was a crush, maybe a bit more.  
He could feel it. All the things, which told him, that there was a massive crush.  
Fast heartbeat, tingling stomach, constantly thinking about him, grinning as soon as there was a text from Sherlock, trying to spend as much time as possible with him, trying to get as much body contact as possible when they met.  
He pinched his eyes.  
He should stop thinking about it like that – otherwise, he would maybe find out, that he is already in love with Sherlock.

Should it be like that?  
Should it really be like that? Falling in love with Sherlock Holmes - a person, who would maybe never be able to return his feelings; a person, he worked for in a way; a person, who had been intended to be just a good friend?  
But was it wrong, when a good friend became a partner?  
Was it wrong when a person, one worked for in a way became a partner?  
Not really, right?

He was totally insecure about it.  
On the one hand, he liked the friendship, and it felt like this would be enough, and it felt strange to let just happen the falling in love thing.  
On the other hand, he felt that the friendship thing wasn’t enough, and it didn’t feel strange to let just happen the falling in love thing.  
Maybe he should try to bring a bit of distance between them again?  
He could try it, maybe he would find out what it is with a bit of distance – if these were just confusing feelings; if it is a crush; if it is love.  
If he wouldn’t really miss him, it wouldn’t be a crush or love.  
If he would miss him, it would be a crush.  
If he would miss him massively, it would be love.

Martin sighed dramatically.  
Of course he would miss him, probably massively.  
He sighed again.  
He got deeper into his thoughts about Sherlock.

Pure insecurity.

 

Sherlock was sitting in the laboratory of St. Barts. He had wanted to do a few experiments, but he was totally distracted since half an hour.  
Half an hour ago, or to be precise 41 minutes and 19 seconds ago, he had made a short break, and had nicely fulfilled Mollys wish to share a coffee.  
And since exactly half an hour, he was fiddling with his phone.  
He had dared to join Twitter – just because of pictures of Martin.  
He hadn’t set up a profile with his name, and not with his e-mail address.  
He just wanted to look through all these pictures anonymously.  
He had thought, he could just scroll through it a few minutes – but now he was totally into it; he scrolled and scrolled and scrolled. He couldn’t stop.

That he couldn’t stop was just Martin’s fault.  
Why was this man looking that cute and hot in almost every picture?  
He knew a lot of these pictures from his Google nights. But he couldn’t take it eyes off them. And then these gifs – totally distracting.  
For a few minutes now, he was watching a gif from an interview – Martin smiled and laughed, with his fluffy hair and a black polo-shirt.  
He could watch it all day.  
And every now and then, this gif made him smile and grin as well.

He sat in front of the microscope, but he was just watching this gif.  
Every day it got harder, not to think about him.  
Every day it got harder, not to be disappointed when he didn’t answer a text.  
He needed to smile again, when Martin laughed softly in the gif.  
He sighed.  
This wasn’t good.  
He really, really shouldn’t give his heart away.  
Probably it was safe in Martin’s hands, but probably he wouldn’t be good enough for Martin. This man deserved a really lovely woman or man, someone who was sociable and kind and funny and handsome. He wasn’t good enough for him, he wasn’t really good with social things, he wasn’t funny, he wasn’t lovely or something like that; he wasn’t supportive; he probably couldn’t give him the love he deserved to get, maybe he would hurt him with his personality. At least, he thought and believed all this.

But there was a really big problem.  
He already had a crush on Martin – a really big one.  
And to be honest, he was almost falling for him – he already stood on the edge; he just needed a light puff of wind, and he would be madly in love with this man. All Martin would need to do, was one more cute thing. And Martin did all the time really cute things for him.  
He really tried to find time to text him, to call him, to visit him.  
He texted him, he called, he visited him.  
He made him smile, grin and laugh.  
He accepted his personality unconditionally.  
He made it easy for him to talk and talk and talk.  
He made it easy for him to trust.  
He touched him, he smiled and winked at him charmingly.

Sherlock bit his lip.  
That was all a bit not good.  
He couldn’t just fall in love with Martin Freeman  
He was obviously not the only one, who probably would love to have Martin as a partner. And he was probably really at the end of the queue, if Martin would rate all the people in this really long queue.  
He was for sure the last one, Martin would want to have as a partner.

Sherlock still watched that gif.  
“Jesus, please, don’t make me fall in love with you.” He mumbled. “It shouldn’t be like that, right Martin?” He asked in a low whisper.  
He closed his eyes.  
He should stop talking to a gif.

Martin was a whole exception. Even with John it wasn’t like that.  
This was all new, and it made him even more insecure about the whole thing.  
On the one hand, he just wanted to lay his heart into Martins hands, even though Martin would for sure never return any feelings.  
And on the other hand, he didn’t want to lay his heart into Martins hands, because he never would return any feelings.  
Love was totally complicated.  
Which mad person had invented this mess?

Should he bring back more distance between them to protect his heart?  
Would he be able to do that?  
Was he able to not miss him, when he hadn’t replied one day?  
No! No, he shouldn’t bring back distance – because he wouldn’t be able to do that, because he already missed him, when he hadn’t replied on one day.

What did other people in such situations?  
Maybe he should ask John.  
Sherlock opened his eyes abruptly.  
God, no! He shouldn’t do that, shouldn’t he? Probably John could help, but they had never talked that intimate.  
He could do a bit of research, or he could just let it go.  
It was so false, wasn’t it?

He looked down again, down to the gif.  
“You already made me fall in love with you, didn’t you?” Sherlock whispered. “Or is it just a crush? Maybe, I'm just confused, because of that deep friendship and chemistry?”

Pure Insecurity.

 

Martin had been the whole day deep down in his thoughts. At the moment, he lay on his sun lounger again.  
He was really unsure if this all was a good idea.  
He was really insecure about it, and normally he didn’t do things he felt insecure with. Normally he thought about things he felt insecure with as often and long as possible – until he was sure what to do; whether it turned out as a yes or a no didn’t matter – as long as he felt secure with his decision.  
This time he hadn’t thought about it that long, and so he still felt insecure with it.  
But he did it.  
He grabbed his mobile phone an texted Sherlock.  
It was Sherlock’s fault, that he hadn’t thought about it properly; this man was a whole exception since they knew each other personally. And so he just risk it; whatever it was, he would find it out in the next time – maybe a bit more at the wrap party.

His phone buzzed.  
Sherlock had answered.  
\----------------------------------------

_Hey Martin, I’m good. I was just in the laboratory today, I’m on my way back home right now. Wrap party? You invite me to a party? What’s a wrap party?_

**_I always feel lazy, when I’m just hanging around and you text me that you’ve worked or what ever you have done in the laboratory. And sorry. I forget to explain what it is. It’s the party after the last day of shooting. Food, drinks, music. Just a party to celebrate the end of the principle photography. It’s on the 5th August in Cardiff, in the evening. You could come – joining me the last day, and then we could go to the party._ **

_That’s a social event..._

**_It’s just the crew and a few of the cast – there are no photographers or something like that, Sherlock._ **

_It’s still a social event._

**_Well, yes. Um. I don’t want to convince you and force you, if you feel uncomfortable with it. I just wanted to ask you, and let you know, that I would like it, if you would be there with me. Just let me know, if you come, in the next few days, Sherlock._ **

_It’s not you, Martin. It’s the amount of people, and that I need to talk to them at a party, I can’t just stand around with you, because you won’t just stand around with me. I’m not that good at talking with other people, small talk and all that. I can’t shut my mouth, and then I will make deductions, and everyone will think I’m rude. It’s really not you, Martin. It’s easy to talk with you and all that. It’s the rest of the people, who will come. But I will think about it, I promise._

**_You’re right, I won’t stand around with you the whole time, because I would love to celebrate. Don’t get me wrong, Sherlock, I don’t write that to convince you. It’s just a comment about your message, from me as a friend. There aren’t new people, you all know them, and they all know you, and they all like you – they’ve all seen you, when you have been here. They know that this is not something you’re confident with, and they know your social behavior. I don’t think, that someone would force you into a small talk, when you don’t want that. You will never know, if you are able to attend and to have fun and to manage such events, when you avoid it every time. You know what I mean? It’s like your creepy experiments. You need to put chopped hands into drugged wine, to know what will happen. If you wouldn’t have put these bloody freaking chopped hands into these drugged red wine, you offered me firstly, then you wouldn’t know the result. Jesus, a bloody long text. Sorry. Just think about it. I would love to go there with you, but when you can’t do it, then it’s fine, okay? I won’t be grumpy with you._ **

_Thanks for your unpublished book that you’ve sent me right now._

**_:-D Git!_ **

_I don’t like it that you’re right that often, Martin. Maybe I should try this experiment? And you would really like to be my assistant for this experiment? Maybe I’m a git, but you’re a hedgehog._

**_Stop with researching me! :-D. You should, and I would like to help you with this experiment._ **

_Can’t stop, right now. I’m sure, I haven’t found everything which is floating around of you on the internet. August the 5th? At the studios? I would come around 12 am._

**_Can’t wait to see you, git. :-)_ **

_Can’t believe that I’m admitting that I can’t wait as well, hedgehog._

**_I always like it, when you can admit something. :-)_ **

_At least it’s worthwhile. :-) (You have infected me with these smileys!) I’m off now, Martin. I’m at 221B and Lestrade is here._

**_Amanda and another friend (Simon) infected me, I’m not guilty. Stay safe, if it’s a case, if he’s there because you did something bad, don’t dare to get arrested. We have an appointment._ **

_I resist the smileys now, but I’m laughing. Enjoy your day off._

\----------------------------------------  
Martin laid the mobile phone into the grass again.  
He leaned back into his sun lounger.

Actually, a few hours ago, he had thought that it would be could, to bring back a bit of distance between Sherlock and him.  
Martin snorted.  
That hadn’t held long; Martin thought.

Sherlock and all these exceptions he has for him, and his own insecurity confused him.

Maybe at some day he should talk with someone about it – for an advice.


	14. Call it a wrap

**\- Friday, August/5 – 2016, 7 pm., Wales, Cardiff -**

The whole day Martin had shot the last scenes of BBC Sherlock Season 4 – today they had called it a wrap.  
On the one hand, it was great – because it means, that the post-production would begin, and the audience would be able to see the new three episodes at the beginning of the next year. And he was looking forward to Australia and his new project.  
But on the other hand, he would miss the BBC Sherlock cast and crew – it was always like a big and long family meeting.

Sherlock had been here all day as well, at least since the midday – John hadn’t been able to come with him; he had his shift at the St. Barts Hospital and hadn’t been able to change with another doctor. But he had wished Sherlock a nice day and a great evening, especially with Martin. Sherlock had just ignored the last comment from John this morning.  
To be honest, he was just here to see Martin, even though the others were mostly nice and great as well, but the person who matters today and tonight was Martin – he did it just for Martin, and his friendly advice.

A few seconds ago they had entered the hotel room of Martin.  
Martin slipped out of his shoes, and dropped down his bag. He looked up to Sherlock again.  
“You look like you’re happy that we’re alone now.” Martin smiled.  
“That’s because I am happy that we are alone now. It was almost a whole day with a lot of people for me. I’m glad to have a few moments... um, just with you. It sounds awkward. You know what I mean. Just with one person, um, more silence and all that.” Sherlock said; but he knew it was a bit of a lie – actually he was also happy to be just with Martin a few moments, just because of Martin, to have him for himself.  
Martin smiled.  
“I know what you wanted to say.” He stroked across Sherlocks upper arm, just because he couldn’t keep his hands of that man. “I wanted to go to the shower and I wanted to change my clothes. Um, you can stay here, or you can go to your hotel room.”  
“I haven’t a hotel room. I’m not staying the night. A minion from Mycroft drives me back to Baker Street when the party is over.” Sherlock said; and he was happy because of Martins stroking.  
“Oh, really? Have you told your brother that you’re going to a party?” Martin grinned, and slipped out of his jacket.  
“No, not really. Mycroft found it out. And then he said, that someone of his minions could drive me to Cardiff and back home.” Sherlock rolled with his eyes.  
Martin laughed.  
“And you just agreed to that?”  
“Obviously not, Martin. We fought at the kitchen table, when we were in Sussex a few days ago, to have dinner with our parents, and then I got into trouble because I fought with my annoying brother. They forced me into it. I thought about just taking the train this morning, but Mycroft would have called mummy immediately.” Sherlock said with an annoyed voice, not because of Martin, but because of his brother.  
“I don’t give a shit, how you came here, to be honest. I’m just happy to see you. It’s great that you’re here.” Martin said honestly; he patted Sherlocks shoulder. “Just make yourself comfortable. I will pick up some clothes and then I am in the bathroom.” Martin said.

He smiled to Sherlock again, and then he walked to his luggage.  
He bent down to his things, and looked through some of the clothes.  
Sherlock followed him, and sat down in the armchair, which stood next to the window and a little table. He watched Martin, or to be precise, he watched Martins butt, that luscious little butt, in these really nice dark blue jeans.  
When Martin turned around, he just saw a Sherlock, who was looking out of the window. He hadn’t noticed, that Sherlock had eyed his bum; he hadn’t noticed, that Sherlock had looked very satisfied; he hadn’t noticed Sherlocks lip licking; and of course, he hadn’t noticed Sherlocks pounding heart and his tingling stomach. He just saw Sherlock in the armchair, looking out of the window.

Martin walked to the armchair, laid his hand on Sherlocks shoulder.  
“I’m in the bathroom now. I will try to hurry up – but I’m not sure, if I’m able to, I’m very specific with my clothes and my hair.” Martin said.  
Sherlock turned his head to Martin again. He looked up, and Martins soft touch on his shoulder, led him to do a similar thing – he raised his hand, and put it on Martins back.  
“I will entertain myself. It’s okay.” He smiled up to Martin.  
Martin smiled down.  
“You say that now.” Martin winked.  
“If I don’t want to wait any longer, I just drag you out of the hotel room, no matter how your hair will look like, or whether you’re fully dressed or not.” Sherlock grinned slightly.  
Martin smirked, patted Sherlocks shoulder.  
“Then I will hurry up a bit, because I’m thinking, that you’re capable of doing this.” He winked again.

When he walked away, they both broke apart slowly; Sherlock lowered his arm again, and Martin let his hand stroke across Sherlocks arm, down to his hand. Their hands touched one another with just a soft whiff, the fingertips of Martin caressed across the palm of Sherlocks hand, and Sherlock fingertips caressed across Martins fingers.  
Martin turned his head around, smiled softly – and he got a soft smile back from Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed when Martin closed the bathroom door, and he couldn’t hear, that Martin sighed as well.  
A fast beating heart, busy butterflies in his stomach, weak knees, goosebumps all over his body, missing Martin although he was just in the bathroom, wanting to join Martin in the bathroom, wanting to be touched by Martin again – he finally needed to admit that he had fallen head over heels in love with Martin Freeman.  
He sighed again.  
It wasn’t an insecure question any longer, it was totally obvious – he was in love with him.

The next question was, what to do with it.  
Trying to win his heart? Then trying to be a good partner? And trying not to hurt him, and trying not to think about the fact, that he didn’t deserve a man like Martin and that Martin deserves something better?  
Or…  
Trying to hide these feelings deep, deep down in his heart, and lock them into a room in his mind palace and throwing the key away?  
He was insecure. He needed more data, he needed to deduce Martins behavior a bit more – whether it was just a chemistry between friends, or whether he liked him surprisingly a bit more than just as a friend.

While Martin was busy with showering and dressing and styling his hair, Sherlock sat in the armchair, deep down in his mind palace – he watched all the meetings with Martin, he watched all the messages they had sent to each other, he could literally hear all the phone calls they had done.  
He was still insecure; he wasn’t good with friendship things and with love things he was even worse. Martin liked him as a friend that was obvious. And he winked at him very often, and he beamed at him very often, and he touched him very often – as soon as there was a possibility, he touched him.  
So, he needed to like him a bit more, right? He flirted, right? What he did was flirting, wasn’t it?  
And on top of that, Martin tried to spend a lot of time with him, whether it was a message, or phone call or a visit – he really tried to have time for him.  
That was more than friendship, wasn’t it?  
But that couldn’t be; why should someone like Martin fancy him? HIM! Probably he could have almost everyone he wanted to have with just a snap. Why should he want to be with him? That makes no sense.  
Sherlock sighed, and bit his lips.  
Pure insecurity.

He startled and opened his eyes abruptly when two hands cupped his hands, which had been in his usual thinking positions.  
Martin was standing in front of him, his two small and warm hands lay against his big ones. Martin smiled and looked him in the frightened eyes.  
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to scare you. I just wanted to say, that I’m ready, genius.”  
Sherlock just blinked a few times.  
“Unsolvable case? Or why are you sighing, and biting your lip?” Martin asked softly.  
“Yeah, um, it’s in a way a case. I... will tell you, when I’ve solved it.” Sherlock said.  
“Great, I’m looking forwards to it.” Martin smiled, and took his hand off Sherlocks.  
He smiled down again, and walked to the door, to slip into his shoes.

Sherlock followed him with his eyes.  
Martins almost grey hair was slicked to the right side – loosely; he was wearing his black frame glasses, a white T-Shirt with grey stripes, and a dark blue jeans – and now he was also wearing his black thin jacket.  
He looked gorgeous with this hair, and his glasses and this casual wear; Sherlock thought, and stood up slowly.  
Martin smiled up to him.  
“Are you ready for our experiment, Mr. Holmes?”  
“No,... but my assistant Mr. Freeman seems to be ready for it.” Sherlock admitted.  
“I will make sure, that you have a great time, and that you don’t regret your decision, Sherlock. I’m with you, and I will take care of you, I promise.” Martin smiled cheerily, and patted Sherlocks back.  
“I trust you.” Sherlock said.  
“I know. And like you, who doesn’t play with my trust, I won’t play with yours.” Martin smiled, and opened the hotel room.

 

With a cab they drove to the party, which had started at 9 pm, a few minutes ago.  
There was a lot of everything; a lot of alcohol and other drinks, a lot of food, a lot of loud music, and a lot of decoration – and a lot of people.  
For Sherlock, everyone, whose name wasn’t Martin Freeman, could just go home.  
It was one thing to see them all on the BBC Sherlock set, but to see them all in one place, in one big room, wasn’t the most comfortable thing for him. He could see much more people, than on the New Years Eve party at the Yard – and that was already an abnormal uncomfortable feeling and situation for him. He didn't know how and if he would survive this party. And he didn’t want to disappoint Martin.  
It wasn’t just abnormal uncomfortable, he could literally feel the huge pressure. The pressure he made himself, because he didn’t want to disappoint Martin.

Martin stayed at Sherlocks side until a long speech to all the cast and crew members, who were here tonight. Even Martin, Robert, Mark and Steven said something, thanked them all, especially Sherlock, and they all said, that they are glad that Sherlock is here tonight.  
He was really flattered by the fact, that they were happy to see him, but on the other hand, he felt uncomfortable because everybody was watching him. He wasn’t standing in the middle of the circle, like Martin, Robert, Mark and Steven and Sue, but it was the same feeling.

Robert came to him, with something in his hands.  
“I’m sorry, that we’re making you feel uncomfortable. And I’m sorry, that I will make you feel even more uncomfortable right now. You really don’t have to feel like that. It’s great that you’ve visited the film set a few times this year, and that we got to know each other. And it’s great, that you’re here tonight. It’s fine when we just have a few drinks together, you don’t have to talk with us.” Robert said with a smile. “We’ve a little present for you, just to say Thank You, for you - being a great human being, a great Consulting Detective, for your cases, for your help, and for your visits. And a special Thank You from me, to be allowed to play you. I know you haven’t watched it yet, but if you do some day, I hope, you will like me playing you. Thank You, Sherlock.” Robert smiled, and handed him a huge framed picture.

Sherlock blinked a few times.  
Robert was right, now he felt even more uncomfortable, but also even more flattered.  
He looked down to the huge framed picture, which was a picture from the last time he had been on set – with some of the cast dressed up as the characters they play, and he himself was also on the photograph; he was standing next to Robert and Martin. And then one could also see: Rupert as Lestrade, Mark as Mycroft, Una as Mrs. Hudson, Louise as Molly – and Steven and Sue were also on the photograph.

 

**Thank You, Sherlock!**

 

The handwriting was written onto the photograph.

Sherlock eyed the picture; they were all smiling or grinning, and Robert pointed with his forefinger to him and grinned broadly. Even he himself was smiling truthfully in that photograph.  
He looked up again.  
Everybody was watching him, smiling at him.  
“Um,... well, Thank You for that.” He mumbled. “I’m not good with words in context to all that here,... but Thank You for the warm welcome, and that present, and that I’m still allowed to come here, even though I wasn’t that nice the whole time, when I was here.” He said.  
They all laughed and grinned because of his last comment, and they all mumbled nice words all over the place at the same time.

Sherlock was glad when the party began properly. He had put the present aside, and joined Martin again, who had smiled at him, and had rubbed across his back.  
The party wasn’t as bad as Sherlock had feared. It wasn’t that he felt totally comfortable, but he needed to admit that he felt more comfortable here, than on the New Years Eve Yard party.  
Martin had been right, nobody had forced him into small talks, even though he had talked quite a lot in between – but it had been willingly. They all had been really understandable, like Martin had told him before.  
And so he could say, that he enjoyed the party as much as he was able to enjoy something like that. He was allowed to just stand around in a corner, to have some time on his own; he could talk to some people; he could join them while drinking or eating – and even he had eaten a bit; and he had managed it not to sulk, not to freak out, not to be rude or selfish, when Martin hadn’t been at his side; he had managed it to join the others and their conversations, when Martin had been celebrated or talked or danced with other people, when Martin hadn’t paid attention to him.  
But there had been a really great thing, that Martin had done – Martin had come to him every now and then because of different things; Martin had asked him several times if everything was okay; he had come to him, to talk with him, to have a drink with him, to eat something with him, to just join him, while observing the others from a corner; he had dragged him for one dance to the dance floor.  
The attention from Martin was great, and it was great, that he took care of him, like he had promised it in the hotel room. Martin hadn’t just left him behind; he had celebrated with his colleagues, and with him, and he had made clear with words and smiles and touches every now and then, that he was totally happy to have him here.  
And that was enough for Sherlock to feel as comfortable as possible for him on a social event like this.

 

It was already in the middle of the night, when Martin joined him again.  
A few cast and crew members had been going home or to the hotel in the last minutes.  
Martin smiled up to him; he looked tired and he looked drunk.  
“Are you alright?” Martin asked.  
“I am.” Sherlock said, and looked down to Martin, who had slipped out of his jacket a few hours ago, and who had taken off his glasses – the cheeks where red from dancing and the warmth and the alcohol; his eyes were glazed also from the alcohol and from being tired; and his hair was tousled. “You’ve enjoyed yourself and the party pretty much.” Sherlock stated with a smile.  
“True, I think I don’t need to tell you, Mr. Holmes, that I’m drunk and exhausted.” Martin smiled.  
“You don’t have to, it’s obvious.” Sherlock smiled.  
“I hope you have enjoyed it too, have you?” Martin asked.  
“I have, Martin. You haven’t promised too much. I can’t tell it everybody,... but I can say it to you, and maybe... you could tell it the others. You have all been very nice and friendly to me tonight, they have all been really understandable,... could you thank them, Martin? And well, I thank you personally, right now, for taking care of me tonight, for the invitation, and for not letting me alone.”  
“My pleasure, Sherlock.” Martin smiled. “It sounds like you want to go.” He bowed his head.

Sherlock looked down to him, and nodded.  
“I’m sorry. It was a long day with a lot of people around me,... and a long party and night with all these people in a smaller space,... it’s already 3 am. I’m not tired,... but it’s enough for me, um, the amount of people. Sorry Martin. I would love to go home.” Sherlock said apologetically.  
Martin squeezed his shoulder.  
“No need for an apologise, Sherlock. It’s okay. I can understand you, it’s nothing you’re really comfortable with, and you’re not used to it. Is Mycrofts... minion waiting for you outside?” Martin asked.  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Hmmh, he is.”  
“Okay,... I’m coming with you, to say goodbye to you.” Martin smiled. “Just one more time the huge confidence you have when it comes to knowledge, Sherlock. A loud goodbye and a raised hand for everybody. You don’t need tosay goodbye to everyone in person, but a loud goodbye would be great. Can you do that?” Martin asked softly.  
Sherlock looked at him, and nodded.

He took the framed photograph, which was leaning against the wall behind him.  
He bit his lips, took a deep breath.  
Come on, for Martin; Sherlock cheered up himself.  
He cleared his throat.  
“Good night.” He said very loudly, to be louder than the music – it was a scream, to be honest.  
He smiled weakly and raised his hand, when everybody looked to him.  
And he got smiles and good nights and goodbyes and other lovely words back.

He calmed down his fast beating heart, and went outdoors with Martin.  
They walked a few meters, to a black waiting car. He put the huge framed photograph into it, and closed the door again. He turned around to Martin.  
“I haven’t asked until now,... but have you known that they will give me a present?” Sherlock asked.  
Martin shook his head.  
“Not really, I mean, I didn’t know it, when I invited you. They had shown it to me yesterday, before you came here.” Martin smiled.  
“It’ really nice that they have given me a present.”  
“It’s the way to say Thank You, and to tell you, that we all appreciate you, and that we were all very happy to get to know you, and to have you on set, at least two times.” Martin smiled with a wink.  
Sherlock smiled.  
“Can you say thank you from me again.”  
“I will, Sherlock.”  
They smiled at each other.

Martin eyed Sherlock, who seemed to be insecure, what to do now.  
“Am I allowed to hug you, like a few hours ago when you arrived on set?” Martin asked.  
“You are.”  
And it didn’t take one second, not one blink of an eye, and he felt Martins arms around his neck.  
Martin pulled him down, hugged him tightly around the neck.  
“Thank you for coming to Cardiff today,... or well, yesterday. Thank you for joining me tonight. It was great to see you again, it was great to talk with you, to drink and eat with you, and it was great to dance with you,... well, the whole time you have spent here was fucking great. I enjoyed it a lot, every second of it. You’re a great guy, Sherlock. I’m happy to know you, and it’s an honour to be your friend. I’m babbling a bit, because I’m drunk,... but I meant all this.” His hand patted Sherlocks back of the head. “Please write me when you’re back in London, can you do that, Mr. Handsome?” He flirted.  
Sherlock hugged him back, listened to his words, to his pet name. He was surprised, not by the flirting – Martin did that all the time, when they were together; he was surprised by the long and tight and loving hug.  
Even though he didn’t know much about friendship and relationship behavior, this hug was obviously too long and to loving for friends.

But he didn’t want to complain, because he really enjoyed it, and he hoped, that Martin wouldn’t let go the next hours. He should just drag him in, and take him home like a cute little puppy.  
“Um, thank you, Martin. I... I enjoyed it too,... um, as much as you.” He mumbled; he didn’t want to say all these things again, not because, he didn’t want to repeat it, but because it wasn’t easy to admit all this with many words. “I will write you, when I’m back home, Martin.”

Martin nodded with a smile, and he let him go slowly, and not willingly.  
He looked at Sherlock, smiled again, and he couldn’t hold back theses touches. And he didn’t want to. He patted Sherlocks cheek softly.  
“Have a safe trip home.”  
Sherlock bowed his head, nodded and smiled.  
He patted Martins upper arm.

And before Sherlock got into the car, they smiled at each other again.

 

The car drove off, and Martin raised his hand for another goodbye, not knowing, that Sherlock had turned around in the car to see it, not knowing, that Sherlock saw, that he waited until the car was out of sight.


	15. A conversation with Sherlock about Sherlock

**\- Saturday, August/6 – 2016, Wales, Cardiff, Hotel -**

After a long night of celebrating, and a few hours of sleep, Martin had been in the hotel restaurant for a proper breakfast. He wanted to drive back to London with Mark, but Mark was still busy with packing his things, to be accurate, he hadn’t packed yet, and he was still sitting at the breakfast table.

A few hours ago, Sherlock had written him, that he would be back at 221B Baker Street, that he thanked him, and that he had enjoyed the evening.  
It had let him smile broadly. It had made his stomach tingle.  
Actually, it wasn’t a big thing to give a short call after a long drive home, it wasn’t a big deal to thank someone and to tell him, that the evening had been great.  
But for Sherlock it is a really big thing, to admit something like that.  
And so it was a thing, that made Martin’s stomach tingle – because it was a big deal for Sherlock, but nevertheless, he tried to express such things to him. And he really appreciated it.

Martin stepped into the elevator, and before the doors shut close, Robert squeezed his body through the doors.  
He smiled at Martin, who looked confused.  
“I could have waited for you.” Martin said.  
“Yeah, no. It’s fine. It was spontaneous. I’m a bit confused by your behavior at the breakfast table. I mean we’re all a bit tired and have a hangover, and we haven’t talked much – but you were almost totally silent. Several times, I forgot that you’re with us at the breakfast table. Is everything alright with you?”  
Martin pressed the button for the third floor.  
“I was just thinking about something,... and have been a bit distracted.”  
Robert looked at him.  
“Have you been thinking about someTHING or someONE?” Robert raised his eyebrow.  
Martin looked at him, pursed his lips, and sighed.  
“Well, when you ask like that, you know, that I was thinking about someone.”  
“It’s Sherlock.” Robert said right after Martin had closed his mouth. “There’s something special between you two.” Robert wobbled with his eyebrows, and he shoved Martin out of the elevator when it stopped on the third floor. “You could talk with Sherlock about Sherlock – Sherlock is with you right now.” He grinned. “At least the fake one.”

Martin stumbled across the floor.  
“I have no choice, haven’t I?” Martin asked.  
“Totally right.” Robert grinned, and dragged Martin across the floor.  
Martin sighed again. He pulled out his key and unlocked the door to his room.  
Robert followed and closed the door, while Martin threw the key onto the bed.  
He sat down onto the mattress; Robert walked through the room and sat down onto the armchair.  
He waited for Martin to talk.  
Martin rubbed his neck.

Robert raised his eyebrows; he looked at Martin with curious eyes.  
Martin rubbed his neck again.  
“Well, I don’t know. It’s a bit weird and I don’t know what to think about it, or what to do with it. Well, there’s a big crush, maybe a bit more,... to be honest, it is more than just a big crush. As you said,... it’s something special. Do I need to say it out loud?”  
Robert bowed his head.  
“You’re insecure whether you have fallen in love with Sherlock or not, and if this is right, am I right? Have I got it right?”  
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to say.” Martin nodded.  
“What’s weird about it? I mean you’re bisexual, and so Sherlock is someone you would fancy, because of his gender. Is it because it’s not confirmed that you’re bisexual?” Robert asked.  
“No. I don’t give a shit, it’s my love life – I don’t care, what other people think about it. It’s the fact, that it is Sherlock.” Martin admitted.  
Robert bowed his head again.  
“I don't understand. What’s weird about Sherlock? Okay,... despite body parts in a fridge and all that. It’s a man, he looks good... ” Robert shrugged his shoulders.  
“I mean, it’s weird that,... just the whole situation. You know, you’re playing Sherlock, I’m playing Watson, in a series called Sherlock for 7 years now,... and then I get to know Sherlock and we become friends really quickly, and then there's me with a crush on the real Sherlock right now.”

Robert laughed for a few seconds.  
“Jesus, Martin. It’s not the only real person movie or series in the world. There are so many movies out there about a real story, about a real person,... persons who are attractive and single and loveable. It wouldn’t be weird to fall in love with them. Why should it? It’s just a normal person like you and me. There’s nothing wrong with it, Martin. Your feelings aren’t wrong. How many of us are falling in love on a movie set with co-workers or with someone from the crew? Quite a lot. I know what you mean, but maybe you should forget that you call me Sherlock. You aren’t John Watson, I’m not Sherlock Holmes.” Robert smiled. “Sherlock Holmes is just,... well, he’s just a member of the crew in some way.”  
Martin looked at him and bit his lip. He rubbed is neck and ran his hand through his hair.  
“Sometimes I’m thinking too much about some things in my life.”  
Robert grinned and nodded.  
“I know, I know you for a while now.”

Martin smiled and grinned, and rubbed his neck again.  
Robert smiled at him.  
“The question is – does he make you happy? Does he make you laugh and smile and grin? Does he make you feel comfortable? Do you have a racing heart? Do you have a tingling stomach? Are you looking forward to see him again? Do you already miss him? Do you want to spend as much time as possible with him? Could you imagine, to be in a relationship with Sherlock?”  
Martin looked at Robert, who waited for an answer.  
Martin took a deep breath.  
“Yes,... to all of your questions.” Martin admitted with a low voice.  
Robert smiled.  
“So then you know the answers to your other questions. What’s wrong with you? Just give it a go,... just date him, or deepen that friendship, try to figure out if he’s interested. Or just don’t think about it, risk something and do what feels right,... in your stomach, and not your head, Martin.”

Martin sighed  
“That sounds so easy... ”  
Robert smiled to him.  
“Well, it is. Come on, what’s your stomach telling you, except from: I looooove fooooood.” Robert grinned.  
And Martin needed to grin as well.  
“Um, when he’s not talking about food, he’s talking about asking Sherlock to come over to Potters Bar – for a date.”  
“Great. So you just have been at the breakfast table. Your stomach is happy, there's enough food and tea in it. So you can text Sherlock, and ask him, if he wants to come over for a visit.”  
“Now?” Martin asked with an almost high voice.  
“Yeah, now! How long do you want to wait? Just do it. You like him very much, Martin. And there’s something very special between you two. Risk it! And make this special thing, a bit more special.”

Martin looked at Robert, followed him with his eyes.  
Robert stood up, made two steps, took the mobile phone from the bedside drawer and threw it into Martins lap. And then he sat down again.  
Martin looked to him, to Robert in the armchair, who smiled and waited.  
“You’re annoying sometimes, Downey.” Martin said, while typing his passcode.  
“Noooo,... I just love you, and want the best for you.” Robert smirked.  
Martin rolled his eyes, with a little grin.

He sighed, bit his lip, and then he texted Sherlock.  
“You’re good as gold.” Robert grinned softly. “You know it’s the right thing, when you turn off your head.”  
Martin nodded with a sigh.  
“Yeah, I know. I’m just surprised by myself, or well, surprised by Sherlock and me,... you know, it’s exactly what you said. That special thing, that chemistry we have,... it’s surprising. I hadn’t expected that. And now it’s a bit scary, that there is this chemistry.”  
Robert smiled.  
“Well, but surprises are great. Your phone blinked.” Robert grinned, and pointed to the mobile phone, which was lying onto the mattress next to Martin.  
Martin looked down, and took the phone.

_You want that I come over to you? Just the two of us, for a nice evening?_

Martin smiled, and texted back.

**_Yes, I would love to invite you to come over, for a few drinks, nice conversations, maybe food. Would you like to come over? Just the two of us,... then we will have more time for us._ **

_That sounds really nice._

**_Monday? 7 pm.? Or just say a day and time, I’m free this week and the next one as well._ **

_I will be at your place on Monday at 7 pm. You know, I don’t do that often, but well - I’m really looking forward to it and to you. Thanks for the invitation. I will be there, I promise._

Martin beamed happily; totally distracted by Sherlocks messages, he had forgotten about Robert.  
But now, he could hear his voice again.  
“He agreed, you’re beaming.” Robert grinned.  
Martin raised his head – slightly flushed cheeks, with a little nod – then he bent down again.

_**I know. But every time you admit something like that, it makes me happy. I’m looking forward as well, Sherlock. I really do. Can’t wait to spend the Monday evening with you.** _

_Then, I will try to overcome my weaker self for you more often. I like it when you’re happy – it makes me happy._

“Martin, honestly? You honestly ask yourself, if you’re in love with Sherlock? You’re honestly insecure about it? You look at these text messages like a teenager, whose first love had written back, to tell you, that he loves you, and will be yours forever.”  
Martin raised his head again; he laid his phone onto the mattress again.  
He looked to Robert, rubbed his neck – his ears and cheeks were glowing red.  
“Good that we’ve talked about it.” Robert grinned. “Otherwise you would be groping in the dark for the rest of your life.”  
“Yeah, yeah. Just make fun of me.” Martin said with his glowing cheeks and ears.  
“Yeah, a bit.” Robert grinned. “And every time when we will see us - for the rest of your life.”  
“Shut up now.” Martin grinned shyly. “He comes over on Monday.”  
“Oh wow, are we a bit impatient, that you need to see him that fast and badly.”

Martin flushed even more.  
He turned around, grabbed a pillow and threw it to Robert.  
Robert caught it, and threw it back, with a wide grin.  
And when Martin got hit at the head, they both started laughing.


End file.
